Nothing is True, Everything Is Permitted
by Through the Mirror Darkly
Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but very real and one that is being fought right on her doorstep. (AC Xover)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

Author's Note: For those who don't know General Hospital but AC fans, the only thing that you really need to know about the show is that it is a Soap Opera. Soap Operas tend to have overdramatic story and exaggerated stories. While I will be taking a realistic approach to these characters as I can, you have to understand that the history of the show and certain characters is over the top in almost every aspect. Affairs, scandals, and more. That being said you AC fans don't have to know the show or it's history. This is an Alternative Universe that I am setting up as opposed to General Hospital cannon. The main reason for this is because my fav, Elizabeth Webber, who the story is centered around has been written poorly by the writers many times through her twenty years on the show. Things that I have felt weren't true to the heart of this character that I loved, so I have edited bits that I just plain didn't like or felt were too OOC in an effort to correct this. I want to write her in a way that I feel is true, and how I wish GH had honored this legacy character. So AC fans don't despair, I will explain the history of the story and universe as it goes along, and if you still have questions, feel free to comment below and I will do my best to clear things up.

For those who are GH fans, but don't know Assassin's Creed, I'll give you a brief synopsis (it's easier to do this for the game, than a show that's been on 55 years): "For centuries, a hidden war has been taking places in the shadows between two fractions. The Templars, who wish to attempt to use Pieces of Eden-objects of significant power that can shape the world and bend humanity to their will-under the guise of protecting the world through order when all they really want is to subvert mankind's free will to rule over the world as Kings or Gods. The Assassins, who wish to stop the Templars heinous plans, by protecting and championing free will so that mankind may find and determine their own fates. They work in the dark to serve the light, and fight the never ending battle with the Templar, and also in efforts to stop the end of the world. (Also any personal history from the games such as characters will be explained as the story unfolds, if they are relevant.)

Primary differences in GH cannon: ***Liz and Ric dated until Ric drugged Carly, making her believe they slept together. Liz didn't do second wedding with Lucky. She was smart enough to know those relationships weren't healthy. No LnL2 reunion in 2009, and no Niz affair in 2010, that also means that Elizabeth's third son is not born. Sorry. Cameron, Elizabeth's first born, father is not Zander, but someone who will revealed later in the story. Any other changes, will be made clear through the story.*** (And obviously since this story is set in 2011, anything thereafter this point will be null and void.)

Warning: Not Character Friendly to Certain GH Characters.

Primary difference in AC cannon: ***Only that the movie and the games are in the same universe, and that Cal Lynch will have a part in this story later on.***

HISTORY FACTS: Did you know that Cleopatra one of the most arguably famous women of ancient Egypt was actually the seventh woman born into the Ptolemy line that born the name Cleopatra? Cleopatra means, _Glory of the Father_. There were also several different men through the Ptolemy Dynasty tree, named Ptolemy. Even brothers and sisters could have the same name! Apparently the Ptolemies were not very creative with names. Also when pronouncing the word Ptolemy, the P is silent as a mouse.

* * *

 **Nothing is True**

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

* * *

 **ONE**

 **"Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you."**  
 **― Veronica Roth, Insurgent**

 _March 23, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _Webber Residence_

The house was still and dark, only the soft creaking of the wood settling was the only noise that broken the deafening silence. A deep and lasting sorrow the kind that only came in the wake of a horrible tragedy filled the air. It was a sharp, so bitter that it was painful feeling and it plagued Elizabeth Webber even as she slept restlessly in her bed. She was slight thing, standing only three inches of five feet tall. Her thin, graceful limbs that gave her a waif-like appearance yet still had gentle womanly curves in all the right places. The waves of dark hair were sprawled out across her pillow, and her generous mouth formed into a deep frown. Her jaw set tight, her brows furrowed together in a knot. She was what one would call a classical beauty with her alabaster skin, high swept cheek bones and small nose that was turned up at the tip ever so slightly. Her eyes clenched shut, and the pulse at her throat started to hammer wildly. An ancient language, a tongue spoken by Egyptians in ages since past, tumbled from her lips and she rolled restlessly across the mattress caught in throes of a vivid and realistic dream.

 _It was a sunny day. Blinding and bright, the air was hot and smelt of desert sand_. _It was the Siwa Oasis, a small part of the vast land that was Egypt. The year was 49 BCE, and the Pharaoh Ptolemy III was leading a grand caravan with houdahs strapped to the backs of great elephants that were made of vivid colored silks, and embedded with gemstones that shined like starlight in the sun. This trip through the region as a demonstration of his wealth and power for he was just a boy of twelve years old, whom had exiled his older sister and wife Cleopatra to Alexandria in order to rule the throne alone. A twelve year old boy, and he was the most powerful person in all of Egypt._

 _Through the great canyons that led down to the valley and to the city of Siwa. The city was cradled between the towering buttes and mountains in the north, and the endless desert to the south. The water—the oasis that preserved the village and allowed it to flourish was set to the west, through thickets of palm trees and light vegetation._

 _Bayek of Siwa was a tall man with dark skin, and golden eyes that rivaled the sharpness of the sun. His head and face shaved of all hair, enhancing the sensual and masculine planes of his features. His armor and clothing were that of a Medjay, and the badge with the Eye of Horus upon it. The Medjay had come far from the days of old where they were protectors of the pharaoh. Now, the numbers of Medjay had dwindled, and only a few like he served as protectors for all of Egypt. Even with the phylakitai who were to police and hold up the law, the sons and daughters of Egypt still looked to the Medjay to be there as protectors. He walked through the village of Siwa, his home watching the villagers bustle about in excitement of the Pharaoh's arrival._

 _A cry from an eagle came from above, and Bayek looked up at the eagle that swooped down towards him. He held out his arm, and the great bird landed on it without hesitation. This was Senu—his eyes and his guide through the most treacherous parts of the desert—and he stroked her feathers, with a fond smile playing across his lips. He jolted when something soft tickled the shell of his ear, and he turn sharply to see his beautiful wife, Aya. She twirled an arrow between her fingers, and grinned up at him with a mischievous look on her face._

 _Her Grecian features were sharp and angular that only highlighted her strong feminine beauty, and her dark brown eyes were the color of honey and just as warm. Her skin had turned golden underneath the desert sun, and her black as night hair was braided with care, pulled out of her face. A flow of pure love and affection ached inside of Bayek's chest upon sight of her, and his eyes sparkled with joy as he reached down to pull her hand in his. He brought her fingers up to his lips for a quick chaste kiss, and the two of them strode through the streets, hand in hand._

 _They reached the main road that stretched through the city, and Bayek looked to his right to see a small figure climbing the latter. It was a child that was no more than eight years old reached the top, and turned to Bayek. He waved proudly at the Medjay, and Bayek—_

Elizabeth cried out in her sleep, her hand reaching up to her chest. A painful ache rippled through her from head to toe, enhancing the heartache that she already felt on a daily basis. Her teeth gnashed together, and her head thrashed back against the pillow. Her breaths came in short and shallow gasp, but even this was not enough to pull her from her dreams.

 _The ground shook as the elephants stomped through the streets, but there were not screams of alarm, but once of excitement that fluttered through the masses. Bayek and Aya stood beside the priest when the Pharaoh's caravan made up of soldiers and servants marched their way down the streets. Bayek narrowed his eyes against the sunset, to see the young Pharaoh sitting mightily on top the elephant. He looked so young, with a smile upon his face as he waved down the people who eagerly soaked up the attention sent to the by the young Pharaoh whom was all of Egypt's conduit to the Gods. He watched the young Ptolemy's eyes turn towards the priest, and then where the Medjay stood with his wife._

 _Two figures inside of the houdah with the pharaoh could now be seen. They wore ritual masks that were made out of green stone, and resemble the pharaohs from the Old Kingdom. One of them leaned forward, and whispered something into the young Pharaoh's ear._

 _Bayek felt a foreboding sensation settle deep in his heart._

The dreams started to flicker and come undone, like a broken reel of film. Images passed by too fast for her to ascertain what they were, and Bayek's screams rang out in her ear drums as clear as if he had been standing beside her. Finally, the dream settled into a new and much darker scene than before.

 _The inside of the Bent Pyramid was dark and cold. The walls and stone on the inside cannot be touched by the light of the sun, and Bayek walked forward picking up the mask off of the ground. It was the same kind of mask of the ones who stood behind Pharaoh Ptolemy on the houdah that fateful day. Bayek was bloodied and bruised, as if he had been in a great fight for his life. His hair had grown out, shaggy and tied back half-heartedly out of his face. His beard was scraggly and unkempt. Dark circles sat underneath Bayek's golden eyes, and the madness of rage burned deep within the depths of his heart. He looked down at the sniveling and cowardly man, Rudjek, who crawled away from him to the best of his ability. The jewels and precious metals that were sown onto the man's expensive cloth clicked and clanked as he stared fearfully up at the Medjay._

" _You are the Medjay from Siwa? I thought Medjays were supposed to protect the pharaoh?" Rudjek gasped, his great jowl waggled in tandem with his body that quaked with fear._

 _Bayek's upper lip curled in a snarl, and he grasped the arrow stuck into his upper thigh. It hadn't gone deep enough to be fatal, but far enough that pain burned through his muscles as he ripped it out. His cold and deadly gaze swept back to Rudjek. "I am Medjay to no pharaoh," he growled out, his voice rough with exertion and pain. He used the arrow and pointed to a tattoo on his upper right arm. "You see this?"_

" _I can read my own name, nek!" Rubjek cried out._

 _Bayek bared his teeth like a wolf, and then he dragged the tip of the arrow across the tattoo. It was a statement, marking out the name as if it had been merely another thing on a checklist in such a painful and agonizing way. A powerful statement that by marking it out, that Rubjek would be marked out and that he would die in this dark, dank tomb with knowing on fear in his last moments._

 _Rubjek's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. "We will find you. We will find you, in your sleep!" He reached into his robes, and grasped a small knife. He threw it at Bayek in one desperate attempt to kill the Medjay and save his life._

 _Bayek reacted, bringing the mask up as a shield. His golden eyes stared at the tip of the knife that was only inches away from his face. If he had not instinctively raised the mask to shield him, the knife would have killed him. The dark rage that coursed through his veins ignited once more, and he strode towards Rubjek with a gait as lethal as a lion. "Sleep? I never sleep. I just wait. In the shadows," he growled out, kneeling down to the other man. He caught the arm that attempted to strike out at him. He held in a vice grip and got satisfaction when Rubjek whimpered in pain and he raised the mask, the knife pointed downward towards Rubjek's face. "And I will kill you all! Everyone who sniffed the air that day in Siwa!"_

 _And he shoved the mask onto Rubjek, the knife imbedded with a sickeningly wet thud into the man's head._

Elizabeth jolted awake at the copper taste that flooded her mouth, and she pressed her palm against her lips only to pull it back to see drops of blood that stood out against her pale skin. She cursed underneath her breath, gingerly reaching into her mouth to feel the side of her cheek that she had bitten down on and wince at the sting of pain that lanced through her face. She hadn't bit clean through it, but it was a harsh enough bite that she would be feeling it for days. Though, truth be told, the pain was a welcomed change to the cold numbness that enveloped most of her day where grief and rage did not. Her heart was pounding wild and untamed against her ribcage, and her mind turned to the bizarre dream.

She could still feel it—the rage, anger and sorrow that beat through Bayek's blood and heart. It echoed the one that was inexplicably tied to her own soul, and she wondered if this strange dream was just a way of processing her grief. With shaky legs, Elizabeth got out of bed and stumbled her way to the adjacent bathroom. She twisted the steel handle, and cold water flowed down in the sink below. She cupped the water with her hands, and then sipped it up. She gurgled the water for a moment, and then spit it out into the sink. Specs of bloody water painted the bottom of the white bowl red, and she watched with a strange fascination as the water washed it all away.

Her eyes then drifted upward to the little toy yellow motorcycle that had been placed beside the soap dispenser. Her heart slammed into the back of her throat, and her knees knocked together as a grief so powerful nearly sent her to the ground. But somehow, someway, she kept on standing. With a trembling hand, she grasped the toy and held it close to her heart as her wide blue eyes grew wet with tears. She sniffled loudly, and pressed her knuckles up to her mouth to quiet the sobs that wracked through her body. _I'm so sorry, baby. I am sorry mommy wasn't there. I am sorry that mommy couldn't protect you. My little Jakey,_ she thought, with scalding tears rolling down her cheeks. _I would give almost anything to change that night and get you back._

"Mommy?"

Elizabeth jumped, turning to see her eldest boy, Cameron standing in the doorway to her bathroom. Cameron and Jake, her two boys, were like night and day. Cameron had her dark hair that hung around his face in curls and had brown eyes while Jake had his father's blond hair and blue eyes. The two couldn't be more apart in looks, but they had been inseparable. Jake had been Cameron's little shadow, and idolized his big brother. The fissure inside her heart cracked, and grew wider at the thought of what her oldest son was going through. She drew in a shuddering breath, and hastily wiped away her tears while clutching the toy in a death grip. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you?" She asked, her voice raw from the days she had spent screaming and crying.

"No," Cameron shook his head, his dark curls bouncing with the motion. "I…" The six year old boy ducked his head, and shuffled his feet nervously. "I had a nightmare, mommy."

"A nightmare?" Elizabeth asked, walking over to him. She knelt down so she was on eye level with her son, and gently pulled him into her arms. The void in her heart that had been carved out by loss was soothed ever so. It didn't get rid of her pain of losing her youngest son, Jake, but knowing that one of her babies was safe and sound gave her a measure of comfort where well wishes could not. "Do you want to tell me about it? Was it…was it about Jake?"

Cameron nodded, his dark eyes welled up with tears. "He hates me, mommy."

"Oh, baby, that's not true," Elizabeth said, fighting to keep her voice level. Fresh tears stung at her eyes, and she lifted him into her arms holding him tight. "Jake would never hate you, sweetie. He loved and adored you. I don't think there was a person in the world that he loved more."

"H-he…" Cameron hiccupped, his tears falling down his face like a water fountain. "He said that if-f I had j-just came down st-tairs and played with him, he w-would have gone outside! T-that he wouldn't have gotten h-hit by the car!"

Elizabeth heart broke anew. It had been broken so many times, but these new heartbreaks were more painful than anything she had to endure in her entire life. She carried her son downstairs to the living room, and sat him down on the couch. Getting the fuzzy red blanket that he liked the most out, she wrapped him up tight in and let him nestle into her side. "It's not your fault, Cameron. It's not," she told him, stroking his hair gently. "It was just an accident. A horrible accident and it's not your fault. Jake would never blame you for it."

"But my nightmare felt so _real_!" Cameron whispered, tearfully.

"I know they do, sweetheart. But nightmares are like tricks," Elizabeth said, handing him a tissue while using another to wipe his tearstained cheeks. She struggled with it, finding those words or explanation just like she did when she had to explain to Cameron why Jake was never coming home. There was no guide to grief, no easy way to heal wounds like these, but she had to try to help Cameron heal. Even if she couldn't heal and broke apart, she would strive to make sure her little boy did not. "Tricks are cunning and sometimes really scary. But do you know what the enemy of a trick is?"

"What?" Cameron asked, blowing his nose.

"Time," Elizabeth said, softly. She ran her fingers through his curls, and flipped the blanket that had slipped down just a bit. "Time reveals what a trick really is about. Tricks in time will give away what they really are. Nightmares are tricks, and they don't last. But love…love like the one between brothers, like the one you and Jake shared, that surpasses time itself. It last forever like the light of the stars, it endures. Jake loves you, Cameron. Of all the things that will change in this life, that never will."

Cameron swallowed. "Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you think Jake is flying through the stars, trying to touch them? He always said he wanted to reach them," Cameron said, quietly.

"Yeah," she said, with a watery laugh. The first smile in days crossed across her lips, and she pressed a kiss to Cameron's forehead. "That sounds exactly like something he would be doing right now."

"Do you think we could look at the stars?" Her son asked, suddenly. "Maybe…maybe we'll get to see Jake, if we look at the stars."

Elizabeth felt choked up, and nodded her head. She didn't have the heart to tell him that wasn't how things worked, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Whatever you need, sweetie," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "We are going to get through this together, I promise you."

It took a little while, but eventually she got Cameron to fall back to sleep. Sitting there with him in her arms, Elizabeth thought back to that horrible night. After a double shift at the hospital which had been hectic because of a bus accident, she had been so tired and exhausted. But mothers didn't get a break, especially when it was their traditional movie night. She had left Jake on the landing where he happily played with his toys, like he had done so many times before and had went into the kitchen to finish up dinner really quick. The smoke alarm had gone off, blaring and all too loud. She had been in the midst of trying to climb the counter to reach it when she felt a cold draft move through the warm kitchen. The taste of winter air that lingered into March like an unwelcomed guest and instantly she knew something was wrong.

She had abandoned the smoke alarm, and rushed into the living to find the front door wide open. Jake was nowhere to be seen. She could still feel the panic and the fear; even now they lingered in her soul and battered her with every breath she took. She remembered rushing to the door, hearing tires screech across the pavement. The headlights twinkled out of existence by the time she was off the porch, and that's when she had seen her baby. He was lying on the side of the road, bloody and broken, with his yellow motorcycle clutched tight in his hand. Her throat burned with the scream she gave, and she rushed towards him.

He had been so cold and his breaths were so shallow. They had got him to the hospital, and for agonizing hours, Elizabeth clung to hope that he would be alright. And then, all hoped died and in two days' time, she would be burying her son. He would be put into the ground where there was no light, or life. She went over that time so many times, playing it on repeat in her head. She swore when she came inside with the last of the groceries that she locked the dead bolt—the one too high for even Cameron to reach, let alone Jake. She swore to herself, she remembered the feel of the metal beneath her fingers and she remembered twisting the lock, sealing the door tight.

But it was a lie that her mind told herself to absolve the guilt in her heart.

Her baby was dead, and it was all her fault.

* * *

 _48 BCE_

 _Ruins on the outskirt of Siwa_

A desert storm raged on.

The sand whirled around in a golden blur, grating abrasively against his skin that was exposed. Bayek had intended to seek shelter in the old ruins from the sand and heat, but his shadow that had pursued him ever since he left _Nitria._ His plans were dismantled when the towering brute finally had caught up, and launched a violent attack against him. He instantly recognized the man as Hypatos, Rubjek's bodyguard and without a split second of warning the Greek that resembled more of a mountain in his shining and gleaming armor attacked. Bayek cursed himself while he ducked low to avoid his head being removed from his shoulders by the war mallet that Hypatos swung at him with lethal precision. He thought he had lost the man in the sandstorm. His sore muscles ached and pulsed with pain at every move that he made. He had pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, but he could not give up.

Not when there was still so much to do.

"You killed my master, and left me for dead! That was a mistake, Medjay!" Hypatos snarled, his voice held a metallic muffle because of his helm. The ground shook as Hypatos mallet struck it, narrowly missing Bayek who rolled out of the way.

Bayek gripped the pommel of his sword, and held his shield at the ready. His golden eyes narrowed upon the man, and shook his head side to side. "Rubjek deserved his fate!" the Medjay countered, vehemently. "You, however, do not have to die here. I am not without mercy. Let us make a truce, you are not the one I have sworn to kill!"

"I cannot. I am Rubjek's swore bodyguard, and this is a matter of honor," Hypatos spat, angrily. The two circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move. "I have no choice, but to bring my master's murder to justice!"

Blood lust roared in Bayek's ears at the man's defense of the cur he had slaughtered and left dead, abandoned in a that dark tomb. His gaze bled red with rage and he lunged forward with a roar off of his lips. "Your master was a murderer!" His blade clashed against Hypatos, and he slammed his shield as hard as he could into the Greek's face.

Hypatos let out a shout, and stumbled back. The bull of a man retaliated tenfold, and the battle spun onward, violent and spiraling towards death. The clangor of metal against metal that echoed through the ruins, like the beat of a broken song, and blood splattered across the sand, soaking deep into the desert. Sweat dripped off of Bayek's brow into his eyes, every breath that rattled through him as harsh as swallowing sand, and pain splintered through him when Hypatos leveled him to the ground. His shield ripped from his arm, and he had to scramble back to dodge the war mallet.

The mallet struck the stone beneath their feet, and there was a low rumble that followed. Neither man was prepared for the stones to shift, and the ground to give right out from underneath them. The sound of rocks weighing more than twenty men, impacted the ground below with an earth shattering thunder. The fall, nearly a hundred feet, made Bayek's stomach slam up to the back of his throat, and he landed with such force against the sands that it made stars burst across his vision. With a grunt of pain, Bayek rolled himself onto his feet and glanced at his attacker.

Hypatos was trapped beneath a large quarry stone, and was choking on his blood. His hands grasped at his chest, as if to pull the armor away to be able to breath. When he saw the Medjay approach, he reached despite the pain for his mallet that was just out of his hands reach.

"I am sorry that this is the way of things," Bayek told the dying man, with a twist of sympathy on his lips. He only sought vengeance against those that had destroyed what he had held so desperately dear, and despised the fact that men like Hypatos would be caught in the middle of his revenge. But he could not stop, not when he was so close to cutting the head of the Snake. "This was not an honorable death for a warrior such as yourself."

Hypatos growled something intelligible out, blood and spit dribbling down his chin.

"Anubis awaits you," Bayek said, bowing his head. He drew his blade clean across the Greek man's throat. It was a quick and clean death, to spare the man further pain. The Medjay let out a deep breath, one that settled heavy in his chest and he held for a few moments before he released it. His eyes scanned his surrounding, and the opening above. There was no feasible way to climb back up, but these were ruins of a temple. It surely must have some kind of passage that led out of here, and his only hope that it had not fallen in and decayed like his current surroundings.

Picking his shield off of the crowd and slinging it onto the holster upon his back, and sheathing his blade, Bayek began to scan the area with his intense and unwavering gaze. There was a unique ability that his bloodline had been blessed with. It was a heightened perception, his father had said. It allowed them to pick upon things that others would overlook, as if they could see deeper into the world and unravel little secrets. He had never been more grateful for such a gift then he was in this moment, when he felt something off with the far off corner wall. As he stumbled toward it, he saw scarabs—hundreds of them crawling along the wall—and while the beetles were not an uncommon sight, the number of them made his brow arch.

 _There must be an opening. The beetles can live in small spaces, but for such a great amount they would needed more room than the cracks between the stones_ , he reasoned, his mind weary with fatigue. Blood soaked into his clothes and made his arm shafted against his skin. His wounds pulsed with pain, but he had to keep going. He pressed his palms against the stone, and bent his knees, using his shoulder as leverage. The stone gave away and lifted it upward, revealing a secret passage. When he felt the stone click into place into the niches designed to hold it open, the Medjay ducked through the small space and crawled through the passageway before it opened up into a hall.

Sand filtered down from the cracks in the ceiling, and the barest trace of sun light illuminated great statues of the Goddess and Gods in the distance, standing watchfully over the entrance. On nearby pillars, depictions of achievements as well as _akhu_ had been painted by steady and thoughtful hands. Bayek always felt in awe at such hidden wonders, but he could not dawdle for long. He was in need of a healer, and the more time that slipped away, the more likely his enemies were to getting away. He walked across the sand, it shifted beneath each heavy step and he grunted with pain, when he had to vault up over a wall that had fallen over.

Steadily, he made his way across the rumble and ruins until he could make out a bit of light in the distance. It seems so far away and half of him wondered if his addled mind from his wounds and the heat from riding relentless through the Great Sand Sea, a vast desert wasteland with no reprieve or water. He made his way through the great threshold, under the eyes of Iset and Osiris, and into grand room that was massive in size despite the fact that it was halfway filled with sand. Whomever this tomb or temple had been dedicated to, they had spared no expense on showcasing their importance and wealth. He carefully made his way down the slope and muttered to himself, "This must have been built centuries upon centuries ago."

The architecture was similar to things he had seen before, but there was a subtle difference. A telltale sign that it belonged to a time afore the one he lived in the hieroglyphs and paintings. He stepped on something that gave a metallic crunch beneath his foot, and he pulled back to see a chest. It had been nearly hidden away by the sand, but the faint gleam of gold coins and intricate pottery just visible. His stomach clenched tightly, and he bent downward. He hesitated for it was a great sin to take from a tomb, no matter how old and broken it was. "Forgive me, great Amun. I have need of this," he whispered, taking only three coins. He would not take more than was necessary to restore his depleted funds, because these treasures had been left here to be used in the afterlife of whoever this tomb belonged to.

Putting the coins in his pouch, he used the pillar that had fallen over and sat up on an incline to get himself up high to have a better vantage point on the room. He climbed over the necking of the lotus style pillar, and jumped across the relatively flat surface of a broken column before he reached the nearby balcony. He made his way towards a passageway to the left, but found himself at a dead end drop off. Wondering what was below, he grabbed a torch off the nearby wall and broke the seal on the oil jar beneath it. The smell of the oil was powerful and pungent, but the seal had held good keeping the oil fresh. He dipped the tip of the torch into the liquid allowing it to soak up, and carefully wiped it off so that none dripped down onto his fingers. He used his piece of flint and his small dagger to create a spark. After two tries, the torch whooshed to life as the spark eagerly became a flame.

He lowered his torch to light the dark room below the best he could, and the vast treasure below glinted in the firelight. "Riches of the ancients," Bayek whispered, shocked by the treasure undefiled by bandits and scavengers. The tomb had been exceedingly well hidden to escape such a fate. It had no further passages below, just solid walls that offered no way out. With a heavy sigh, he turned back around and made his way back to the main room. He walked further to the end of the balcony, and narrowed his eyes towards the glow of light in the distance. He would have to leap across the beams to reach the other area, and the threshold that went further into the temple.

His body cringed at such a thought, but he had no choice. He could not allow himself to wither and die in such a place. No, he had no right to rest when that which he loved most had been denied such. He steeled himself against the pain, and clutched his torch in a knuckle white grip. He broke into a run, gaining as much speed and as soon as his feet hit the edge, he leapt through the air. His feet slapped against the first beam, but he kept moving forward. He needed the momentum to make each jump, and after two more leaps, he was mercifully on solid ground.

With his free hand, Bayek rubbed his bleary eyes. He could feel the vitality of his body draining away and the urge to sink to his knees grew tenfold. He squared his shoulders, and moved forward towards the great effigies of Horus. Behind the depictions of the god's head, light flowed inward in a spot that was just big enough for him to slip through. "By Ra, finally there is light!" Bayek said, abandoning the torch against the sandy floor. He walked up to the sculpture, his eyes scanned it for foothold and handholds in which to scale it. Rolling the tension from his shoulders, he began to climb upward. Each movement had to be sure and one false move could send him flying down to the unforgiving ground, and it only took one unlucky fall to end a man.

He reached the ledge, and rested his head against the cool stone wall. His temples pounded with agony, and his wounds burned like they had been immersed in Greek Fire. He gnashed his teeth together, and stood upright away from the wall. There was a broken piece of the wall that allowed the sunlight through, and with careful maneuvering he managed to squeeze through. He drew in a deep breath of fresh air, relishing in the taste of it and the beautifully feeling of sunlight against his skin. His solace was short lived when he heard the sound of shouts from below.

Opening his golden eyes, he narrowed them on the figures fighting at the temple entrance. "Soldiers. Of course," Bayek whispered, wearily underneath his breath. He climbed down, using the sand to break his fall. He rushed forward, wondering just who the soldiers were battling against.

"Where is your medjay friend?" One soldier demanded, loudly.

Their mysterious opponent gave no response other than to lash out with his sword. The man whipped around, allowing Bayek his first glimpse at his face and his heart jolted with shock. It was his best friend, Hepzefa! A sense of renewed purpose washed over him, and he withdrew his sword from its sheath.

"What was that?" The closest soldier said, turning around. His eyes widened comically at the sight of bloody and mad looking Medjay coming towards him, and barely had time to shout in surprise when the end of Bayek's sword cleaved clean through his neck. "Hepzefa! Watch out!"

Hepzefa dodged the sword, and slashed the soldier through the gut. He turned towards Bayek, a smile split his face. "Bayek! Is that you?"

"In the flesh!" Bayek smirked, sliding his sword away. He gestured to the dead guards at their feet, and stated with a trace of humor in his voice. "I see you have made new friends."

"They were setting up an ambush," Hepzefa said, dropping his old sword to the ground. He wiped the sweat from his brow before he picked up one of the swords the soldiers' had dropped. Checking it over to make sure it was a generic style type of sword with no specialized markings, Hepzefa claimed it as his own. "It is a good thing I came to welcome you, huh?"

Hepzefa put the blade away, and then clasped hands with Bayek, both happy to see one another. "It's been months. Look at that beard. It feels good to get out and fight!" Hepzefa commented, with a wry grin and released his friend. "I am out of practice. In Siwa, everyone defers to the soldiers on pain of death…or worse."

Bayek absorbed that. He supposed he should not be surprised that the soldiers had taken over Siwa in such a manner, especially given the militant rule that Ptolemy had imposed on all of Egypt. His eyes lifted from the desert sands, and he looked at his friend. "I've killed one of the masked ones. Rubjek known as The Heron," he confided, solemnly.

Hepzefa's face grew sober and he bowed his head. "Four more then."

"Yes," Bayek said, hands clenched at his sides. For a brief moment, the pair fell in silence. The tragedy that had left a void in Bayek had also shaken Siwa and its residents to their core. The sorrow born on that day, and the blood shed was a stain that could never be removed.

"Come, it has been a long road," Hepzefa finally broke the silence. "You need rest."

"No, no rest. Not until all the masked ones' guts lie baking in the sand," Bayek replied, watching Hepzefa mount his camel.

Hepzefa smiled, slightly. "Gods, I have missed you my stubborn friend. Where is your mount? Surely, you do not intend to walk all the way to Siwa?" He arched a brow at his friend.

Bayek rolled his eyes, slightly. He made his way to where his camel was tied up, and made sure that no beast or person had harmed him. "Good boy," Bayek stroked the camel's neck, gently. He pulled himself up onto the saddle, and rejoined Hepzefa who waited patiently.

"Let us go, my brother."

The two Medjay rushed through the desert across the warms sands with the sun beating down upon, and the wind roaring past them. Vultures circled lazily in the distance, having found some poor soul to feast upon. "How have you been holding up?" Bayek asked. He had been gone from home, and it was not safe to send or receive word from Siwa given the nature of his hunt.

"It has been difficult, Bayek. Without you, the villagers look to me to keep order. But the soldiers have set up a garrison and they rule over all," Hepzefa informed him, with a deep frown.

"An entire garrison in Siwa?" Bayek was shocked. Siwa was a small oasis town, hardly large enough to assemble a whole garrison at. He wondered briefly if this had something to do with masked ones, and what they desired to unleash all those months ago. Such thoughts spark a fire in the base of his mind, and his jaw set tight.

"Ptolemy wants the entire region kept under heel. I do my best to keep the villagers out of trouble. I could use your help," Hepzefa admitted, on a sigh.

Bayek nodded, without hesitance. "I will do what I can. But do not forget. I have my own justice to pursue."

Hepzefa smiled. "I knew I could count on you, _seni_."

The vultures that had been in the distance now flew up ahead, and Bayek's stomach lurched when he realized what had drawn a great number of them to the area. The smell of ash and death perfumed the air, pungent and harsh. The small farming village just outside of the main heart of Siwa had been burnt to ashes, with only broken and blackened stone walls remaining. A few bodies that had yet to be collected, burnt beyond all recognition and their features twisted into agony. "By the Gods, what happened here?" Bayek asked, horrified.

"The garrison soldiers are brutal. If they suspect a villager is lying to them, they burn his neighborhood. And worse…much worse," Hepzefa said, in a sorrowful and exhausted tone.

Bayek looked at Hepzefa, and realized that he was not the only who bore heavy burdens. It must be a fine line that Hepzefa walked, trying to protect the villagers the best he could without incurring the garrison's wrath. The two road beyond the devastation in silence, with the beat of the vultures' wings fading into the distance. The road had never seemed so long as it did now, Bayek mused. A never ending stretch to a destination that he both fear and craved to see once more, and his heart beat loudly in his chest as the two men pulled to a halt.

"Welcome home, Bayek. Siwa has missed you."

Bayek did not reply. Too much came at him, too many emotions and memories, and he was at a completely loss at what to feel being back at the start…the start where everything had fallen apart.

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _Webber Residence_

Elizabeth awoke to a rapping at her door, and blinked her bleary eyes open. She looked down at the empty spot beside her, the red blanket unfurled and Cameron was nowhere in sight. A blistering panic tore through her heart, and she jumped to her feet, her eyes darting around wildly. Anxiety stole into her lungs and made it very hard to breath. _No, no, not again! I can't lose another one of my babies! I can't!_ The thoughts tore through her mind, wildly and she rushed towards the door. She ripped it open, and pushed back the couple standing there.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, what's wrong?" Steve Lars Webber, Elizabeth's brother, asked, worriedly. He was a tall man with sandy colored hair, and hazel eyes. He reached out and touched her shoulder, only to hold up his hands in a surrendering gesture when Elizabeth recoiled away from his touch.

"Cameron? Where's Cameron?" Elizabeth demanded, her eyes flickered to the road. She saw images of Jake's broken body, the blood and how cold he had been burned white-hot in her mind's eye. She couldn't lose Cameron the same way. She couldn't. It would break her so badly, she'd never find all the pieces.

"Elizabeth, he is with Audrey," Olivia Falconeri said, gently. She was Steve's fiancée, and a somewhat friend to Elizabeth. She had bright auburn hair, and big brown eyes, and a distinctive Boston accent. "She is taking him to the zoo today, and picked him up a couple of hours ago."

Elizabeth froze in step, her hands quaked in the air before dropping her sides. Fragments of the morning came back to her and she vaguely recalled Audrey coming into the house. Her and Cameron had fallen asleep on the couch after their talk, and she had gotten him ready. She remembered Audrey telling her goodbye and giving Cameron a hung. She remembered the fear that crawled across her skin to let her son out of sight, and she recalled taking a sleeping pill to slip back into oblivion in order to hide from the growing anxiety. _Bayek found Hepzefa and made it back to Siwa,_ she thought, and then shook her head. The dreams weren't important, she didn't know why they plagued her so.

"I…I can't believe I forgot," Elizabeth whispered, running her hands through her hair.

"Elizabeth, are you sure you are alright? We can do this for you, if you need to stay—" Olivia offered, genially.

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. "No. No, I have to do this. I need…to be the one that makes the arrangements for the burial," she said, the words tore up her throat like sandpaper. She felt horribly sick to her stomach, and her jaw clenched then unclenched. "I meant to take a shower and be ready by the time you all got here. I am so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, peanut," Steve said, pulling her into a light hug. "You don't have to be sorry about anything, alright? You just go upstairs and get ready, we'll be waiting patiently. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

Elizabeth trod up the stairs; each step seemed to all her energy and courage. She made it the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and she turned on the shower water to muffle the sound of tears.

* * *

Olivia stood in Elizabeth's kitchen, in the silence of the house that usually was so warm and welcoming. It was now so cold and empty, she shook her head slowly at the site of casserole dishes that sat neglected on the counters. "I never really understood the purpose of people showing up with food when someone was going through a terrible loss. It isn't for the person grieving," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's for the other people, so that they can feel like they're doing something, anything in an impossible situation."

"Believe me, if I could make a casserole, I'd be doing it right now. I have tried fielding phone calls, taking care of what Elizabeth needs, but my sister is just in this dark place that I can't even imagine let alone know how to help her out of," Steve sighed, heavily. "I don't know how to help her through this."

"You're taking care of Elizabeth, and believe me, she appreciates it," Olivia told him, turning to her boyfriend. She wrapped her arms around him tight, and leaned her head on her shoulder.

"Jake was a special kid. And I know, I know that's what family members always say, but he really was. He was bright, he was determined. And I think about the hospital and the miracles that happened there every day. Why didn't Jake get one?" Steve asked, with tears in his eyes.

* * *

Elizabeth's tears dried up, eventually. She stood there numbly for several moments afterwards, trying to remember just how to breathe. Her hands moved with a mind of their own, pouring the shampoo into her palm and working it into her hair. She didn't even flinch when shampoo ran down her face and got into her eyes, burning painfully. A part of her wanted the pain, it made her feel alive as much as it felt like a fitting punishment for not preventing her baby's death. Washing the shampoo away, the dull ache in between her eyes seemed to grow more intense. There was pounding in her skull, it increased with each heartbeat until it was a migraine of crippling proportions. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the sudden agony when she felt her eyeballs strain. It was such a peculiar feeling, like stretching out an unused muscle and the world around went grey.

Every one of her sense was punctuated in this grey haze. The sound of the water crashing to the shower door sounded like thunder, the edges of the tiles and shower seemed sharper like she could see them more clearly, and the peach shampoo was overpowering. The shower water against her skin was like being raked raw with a cheese grater, and she pushed her way out of the shower, stumbling over her own feet. Fear pounded through her veins, Elizabeth didn't understand what happened.

She caught herself on the sink, and looked up in the mirror. It was like seeing the world in negative, and her face looked so strangely alien and familiar, with panic etched into every feature. The same twinge filtered through her eyes, and she released a harsh breath when suddenly the world went back to normal. She stood there, shaken and not sure what that was. "It's the lack of sleep," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "It's just the stress. That's all it is."

She couldn't be going crazy.

She just couldn't.

* * *

 **END OF CHAPTER!**

I intend to stay a couple of chapters ahead on this, and won't post another until I get chapter four finished. It's a way to help me update better, and to keep myself motivated for a story. I deleted to other stories that I just wasn't working on (non-GH fics) and decided to post this one. I hope to get "She Don't Want the World" wrapped up, and put "completed" until I have all the chapters of the next man (Sesshomaru, Thor, or Ardeth Bey, I haven't decided) for Elizabeth in that story done. And I hope to get Spooks done soon, too. So I'm lightening my workload bit by bit.

Author's Note: From here on out, the scenes from Bayek and Elizabeth will be separated by lines and such. It will not be often that Elizabeth has dream sequences of Bayek like in the start of the story, if ever again. The past and present events will be separate, though we will see the impact of Elizabeth remembering her past life as Bayek. (Bayek's part is actually easier to write because it will overall—aside from dialogue edits sparingly added and certain things to be more realistic than gamey—follow the canon of the game. Elizabeth's and General Hospital is departure from cannon, so I'm literally making it up as I go.)

* Bayek's Fight Scene with Hypatos—in the game, after they fall the fight continues. I get that the point was to have the player get used to the fighting dynamics of the game, but realistically speaking two people falling from a roughly fifty foot drop with large stones that was a ton and are massive, someone was bound to get hurt. **It will not be often that I stray from the Origins script, and events.**

** GH NOTE: One of my pet peeves that will come off in my writing is Elizabeth's disdain for people trying to control and run her life. For years, this character was made from an independent strong woman who survived horrible things, into a doormat for others to walk on. She lost her voice and self in the mess that the writers created and I wanted to give her spine back. As for other GH characters, I am writing them in character as the worst version of themselves that has been seen from time to time on the show and I don't believe in whitewashing or easy redemption stories so I am not going to make light of past mistakes. (AC fans can disregard this, lol)

**AC NOTE: Elizabeth's little incident at the end of the chapter will be explained later, and why I chose to portray that—which you likely have inkling of what it is—and why Elizabeth has it. It will take about five to six chapter for the Modern AC storyline to start to take shape through Elizabeth, so bear with me. I can't explain without revealing bits of the story.

***TERMS AND REFERENCES

1.) A _howdah_ or _houdah_ derived from the Arabic _hawdaj_ means "bed carried by a camel". It also known under the term, _hathi howdah_ , it is a carriage which is positioned on the back of an elephant, or occasionally some other animals such as camels. It was used to carry the wealthy, and was often adorned with decorations, even gemstones to demonstrate the owner's wealth and power.

2.) Ptolemy XIII was the pharaoh of Egypt, and ascended to the throne in 51 BCE at the age of ten. He married his sister Cleopatra, whom was a few years older than him and had been serving alongside of their father as ruler until his passing. This was not done out of affection, and Cleopatra used it as a way to continue to rule and cement her place on the throne she thought was hers. In 49 BCE, Ptolemy exiled Cleopatra for he wanted to rule of Egypt to fall solely to him. Given his age and youth, it was likely that his council had encouraged this choice and saw him as a more pliable puppet than his sister was.

3.) Palm Trees—I actually had to look and make sure that this was a fact. Yes, ancient Egyptian had palm trees, called Date Palm which the fruit known as dates were harvested for food and wine. Egyptians knew how to pollinate such trees by hand, but sadly, the tree itself can no longer be found in Egypt in modern times.

 _4.) Medjay (_ also spelled as _Medjai, Mazoi, Madjai, Mejay)_ aswere the elite Egyptian military unit who acted as the ultimate sworn guardians of the Pharaoh and the nation. More than just a police force, at their peak, they were highly esteemed and perceived as the very symbol of true honor and courage.

 _5.) Phylakitai (_ or police) were a police force in layman's terms though they did handle more than just police type duties. The term _phylakitai_ is Greek and given the great prejudice in Egypt at the time against born and bred Egyptians who were only allowed to have certain roles in military and other things, I wouldn't think that many would get to be _phylakitai._ But beyond the in game lore of Assassin's Creed: Origins, I haven't been able to really learn more about them. I will, of course, for the sake of being factual throughout the story as best can be.

 _6.) Nek_ is as far as I know a curse word. It either means 'shit' or 'damn' though I can't find any clear translation for it, when I do I will let you all know. From what I have seen and played of the game, it seems to be a universal word that is used to curse something or someone.

 _7.) Nitria_ was a town in the _Saqqara Nome_ during ancient Egyptian times. It was named Nitria because the vast amounts of natron—a salt used by Egyptians for the embalming of mummies.

 _8.) Nome—_ administrative district or territorial division. This is actually a Greek term, and the Egyptian term is _sepat_ or _spAt._ Each nome was ruled by a nomarch, an administration official. The number of nomes changed a great many times. At one point there were 22 in upper Egypt and 20 in lower Egypt.

 _9.) Ahku—_ spell/enchantment/sorcery.

 _10._ ) _Lotus Pillars—_ one of the first style of pillars or columns in Ancient Egyptian. It is called Lotus because of the abacus and echinus (the top parts of pillars and columns) resembled a lotus flower.

 _11._ ) _Seni—_ the translation given in the AC Origins script is "brother".

RRs are appreciated. :D


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, lrobinson01, trini12180, vonnicus36, for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, lrobinson01, trini12180, for the favs!

I want to thank, lrobinson01 and trini12180, for the reviews!

 **History Facts:** While the Plotemy Dynasty is the last Pharaohs of Egypt, they are not actually of Egyptian blood. They were almost of pure Macedonian descent, possibly some Iranian, but no Egyptian. The dynasty ruled from 323 BCE the time period of Alexander the Great to about 30 BCE.

* * *

 **TWO**

 **"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break."**  
 **― William Shakespeare, Macbeth**

 _March 23, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _Cedar's Mortuary_

No parent should have to pick out a casket to bury a child.

It was all Elizabeth could think about, staying at the coffins that were so small and tiny. It was all she could focus on. She felt like her head was underneath water, barely hearing the funeral shop owner going over what they were made out of, and what quality was better. She didn't even hear Steve or Olivia replying to the man. All she could think was how tiny the coffin was that her son would be laid in, and how he would be buried deep in the ground. The coffin would be lowered where it was cold and dark, where he couldn't get up again. It shattered something deep within her, and her hands trembled against the abrasive fabric of her jeans. If the smoke alarm hadn't gone off, if she had insisted that Jake go upstairs with Cameron, so many scenarios filled her mind until the point of madness and she wished with all her heart she could unravel that night, rewrite it with a better ending.

She had tried to halt the thoughts, to no give into the darkness slithering insidiously through her skull and rattling about, driving any trace of warmth in these quite, lonely moments. The thoughts and pain build upon one another until it is towered over her, casting her in a great shadow. It gives her just enough light to show how suffocating and terrifying its power can be. Cameron was a bright spot, but she could not rely on her oldest—and now only—child to put the pieces back together. It was not fair to place a burden on his shoulders like that. She was the parent, she was the one that was meant to fix things, not break them. So she drew in a deep breath, her blue eyes focused on the caskets and her hand traced the stained maple world with shaking fingers. This was a horrible choice, and one that she had to make whether she liked it or not.

Putting it off would not bring Jake back, only delay and make the pain worse—if such a thing were possible. "This one," she decided, her tone lifeless and flat.

"Elizabeth, are you sure?" Steve blinked in her direction.

"Yes," she replied, but that couldn't be further from the truth. She just wanted this over with. She wanted out of this buildings filled with coffins and away from the stench of death she could smell coming out of the vents from below. It choked her, corroding away at her soul and she needed to be free of it. She pulled out her card to have Steve pay for the coffin, she had enough in savings that should cover the cost. "I'll be outside. I need fresh air."

"I can come wi—" Olivia started to offer, but a sharp shake of Elizabeth's head cut her off.

"I need to be alone," Elizabeth whispered. She made her way out of the show room and was grateful that no one followed. She rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of a familiar brunette in a leather jacket making a hasty escape through the door. Rage lashed through her white hot and unforgiving, and Elizabeth marched after the woman with fury in every step. She shoved the door open, the bell clanging loudly and caught Sam McCall by the arm before she made it down the last concrete step. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What the hell, Elizabeth?" Sam snapped. "Let me go."

Elizabeth didn't. "I want to know why the hell you are skulking around here. You haven't lost any loved ones, you have no reason to be here, and yet you show up on the day that I'm getting my son's casket?" The nurse stated, her voice trembled with a cold ferocity. She had a long and unflattering history with Sam that many believed solely revolved around the man both had loved, Jason Morgan. No one knew the things that Sam had done to her family, and that was the real root of Elizabeth's hatred for the woman. She remembered the vindicated look on Sam's face the night that Jake passed away, the sheer relief that the only tie that she believed that Jason and Elizabeth had was severed forever. To see her now, brought up all that repressed anger except Elizabeth no longer had the patience to hold it back.

Sam blanched, ripping her arm free of Elizabeth's grasp and teetering dangerously on her six inch stiletto heels. She balanced herself with the hand railing at the last second to catch herself before she fell flat on her backside. "Look, I wasn't intending on follow you here, alright?" Sam stated, defensively. Her dark eyes flashed with annoyance and her upper lip curled. "I just wanted to talk to you, but you haven't been at the hospital and your brother has been threatening anyone who dares to think to show up on your doorstep."

"And why would I want to talk to you? We don't like each other, Sam," Elizabeth said, frostily. "We never have and never will."

"I don't want to deal with you, either," Sam retorted, hotly. "But Jason wants to be at his son's funeral procession. He wants to have the people he loves there, too. Carly, Sonny and myself, but he just doesn't know how to ask you."

Elizabeth could read between Sam's words. She was implying that Elizabeth did not rank anywhere as a person that Jason cared about. If Jason wanted to be at the funeral, he would have come to talk to her personally. He would have never left it to Sam or someone else. "Let's say that I believe you. I mean, I don't, but let's pretend for argument's sake that you are telling the truth. Jason is more than welcome to come to the funeral. I'd say Sonny is, too. He would be there to support Jason, and I can be civil with him because while we haven't been good friends, he certainly has never called my children bastards like Carly or watched my son get kidnapped like you."

Sam reeled back, shocked that the sheer amount of venom in Elizabeth's voice.

"You can stay away from my son's funeral and feel free to tell Carly that applies to her, too," Elizabeth told her, her blue eyes glittered like hard, polished stone. "I won't have people who wished he never existed be there. It should be for the people that loved him, and put his welfare above their own. And—" Pain splintered through her skull, right between her eyes as if an ice pick had been buried there with a sharp and agonizing precision.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" Sam's voice was distant against the blood rushing past her ear drums.

Her vision warped, the colorful world around her dulled into grey except for Sam who lit up bright red like a beacon. The hair on the nape of her neck rose warningly, and every instinct in her body tensed preparing for a fight. Shaking her head, she pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes as if to somehow end the pain and lock it up tight. "Just go away, Sam. I have no patience to deal with you or anyone else."

Sam did not heed the request. "Look, I can't leave until I know that you are going to let the people that love Jason be there for him. I get why you wouldn't want Carly or I there, but I'm not asking for us. I'm asking for Jason. Can you not be selfish this one moment?" The brunette said, with a frustrated tone of voice. "I know it's hard to do so given your history with Jason, but if you really loved him, you would try."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and asked God for strength. She was sick and tired of people like Sam trying to rewrite the past, and paint her as some manipulative villain when that couldn't be further from the truth. "Does it every get exhausting for you, Sam? I imagine that it must be," Elizabeth said, dropping her hands from her face when the pain ebbed away. Her eyes opened and the world was back to normal. "You have always lived your life for someone else, particularly the man in your life. You contort and mangle yourself, sacrificing your soul and morals along the way. You bend and bend, until you on the verge of breaking just to fulfill whatever they want you to be. And then you have to restart the process all over again when the next set of eyes don't like what they see."

Sam floundered, and then her eyes narrowed into a glower. "You know nothing about me."

"I used to be you, Sam," Elizabeth retorted, with an eyebrow arched. "After Lucky's miraculous return from the dead, I turned myself inside out for the people that I loved because I was so desperate for their love and for a place to belong that I didn't see the damage until it was too late. I may not like you, Sam. I honestly never will forgive you after all the things you did to me and my children, but despite that I am going to give you the wake up that I wished someone had given me. Stop living a lie, stop being a lie. At the end of the day, when the lie falls apart and the mask shatters, you'll have no one to save you but yourself."

Sam looked a tad shaken by her words, for a split second. "You think I want advice from a one woman wrecking ball? You screwed up your marriage with Lucky, and then your relationship with Jason, and now because of you, your kid is dead—"

The palm of her hand cracked against the side of Sam's face, and the woman stumbled back. She hadn't meant to hit Sam, but the second the accusation left the brunette's lips, Elizabeth felt her control snap like a rubber band. "Why don't you shut your mouth about things you know nothing about, Sam? It keeps you from looking ignorant," Elizabeth told her, her nostril flared with a wrathful breath.

"What is going on here?"

Elizabeth turned to see her brother and his girlfriend standing behind her with wide eyed expressions on their faces. "Nothing is going on here. Sam is just leaving," she stated, her tone flinty and her blue eyes seemed to hold flecks of gold that glowed like burning hot coals. She took her debit card out of Steve's hand as he numbly offered it. "Can you all drop me off at the house, or do I need to take a cab?"

"We'll take you," Olivia reassured her.

"Let's go," Elizabeth said, brushing past Sam without a glance back.

Sam stormed off, and Elizabeth glowered at the woman until she disappeared out of sight. She could feel the tension vibrate along her spine, every ounce of her soul wanted to rip Sam's throat right out of her neck. She swallowed the violent impulse, hating herself for giving into her rage even a little bit. She had never been one to allow her anger to control her or guide her, but Sam's taunt had shattered what little self-control she had been desperately holding onto. She rubbed her tired eyes, and stepped towards the vehicle when a hand gently took her arm. She looked up at Steve with confusion written on her face.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Steve questioned, clear disapproval in his gaze.

"Sam brings out the worst in me," Elizabeth answered, vaguely. "Can we get going now?"

"Elizabeth, you need to let go of whatever anger issues you have with Sam. I know that it hurt you greatly when Jason walked out of your life, but—"

"My issues with Sam have little to nothing to do with Jason," Elizabeth interrupted him, eyes narrowed dangerously. "My anger and dislike for Sam is because she has vindictively and methodically hurt the people around her when she doesn't get the perfect life she wants. She might have been here to plead on Jason's behalf, but more to satisfy her unconscious need to drive it home that I was never wanted in Jason's life. To try and make Jason and mine's son seem like he was nothing more than a mistake. So don't try to preach at me that I should just get over it, because no mother should have to forgive a person who hurt or threaten to hurt their child."

"Elizabeth," Steve sighed.

"Don't Elizabeth me," Elizabeth snarled, slamming the car door shut. She took a step back onto the sidewalk and pulled her arm out of her brother's hand. Her body shook like a leaf from head to toe with her heart pounding violently against her ribcage. "When Jake was kidnapped by that woman with the post-partum depression, Maureen Harper? Sam watched the whole thing happen, and didn't stop it. She kept it a secret for weeks! I went to her to beg for her to put Jake's picture and do a message on that stupid show of hers, and she told me no because she didn't want her producers to exploit my son's kidnapping. She came to me a few days later and told me how we were even because we both lost a child, and that I was lucky because I could have another child to get over the loss! Don't talk down to me like I'm the one being unreasonable for not wanting the likes of her near my baby's funeral!"

She turned on heel and started to march away, ignoring her brother's calls after her. "I'm taking a walk and if you try to follow me, Steve, I'll break your nose like I did when I was five!" She threatened, her voice a deep growl. She barely heard Olivia calming him down, and telling him to let her be. She owed Olivia a nice batch of brownies, the woman seemed to understand the rollercoaster that Elizabeth was currently on wasn't fun and that there were times that Elizabeth just needed space in order to remember how to breathe. She managed to make it all the way to Vista Point on foot in less than thirty minutes, her shins hurting from the climb up the long winding hill. She stood at the bridge, and looked down at the churning water below.

"I have no leaves," she whispered out, feeling her heart jerk painfully at the thought. She always brought Jake and Cameron up here, showing them her favorite spot in all over Port Charles. Jake had started a tradition of gathering up leaves from everywhere he could so all three of them could drop them into the river below. She could see his bright, little smile as if he were standing right beside her and hear his voice as clear as day, _"Will they reach the ocean, mommy?"_

" _Of course, they will, sweetie,"_ she would tell him every time.

She closed her eyes in despair, and shook her head. There was a painful knot in her throat, and she felt her knees tremble beneath her. She knelt down on the old metal bridge, and leaned her forehead against the railing as she took deep breath to compose herself. Sam's words like a snake, coiled around her mind. There was an unfortunate truth to the fact that Elizabeth had bad luck when it came to her love life, and history of making horrible decision in an effort to protect those that she cared about most. Her world went sideways again, the grey pooling over the colors and swallowing it whole. The pain was crippling, sending her to her knees and driving a scream right out of her throat. It felt like her brain was being stabbed by a thousand hot needles, and then scrambling everything about, changing who she was fundamentally, and when she thought her soul was going to be torn apart by the swirling storm inside of her, there was voice that seemed to call from beyond the veil of eons ago that whispered, " _Come forth by day, and I will guide you home_."

Elizabeth grasped onto the lifeline, and pulled it close. The warmth of the voice seemed to wrap around her body, mind and soul, awakened the need to survive, the need to thrive and pushing the darkness away. She fell backwards on the ground, the convulsing shudders that wracked her body became nothing more than the occasional twitch. But she was so exhausted, as if she had just had the fight of her life and she didn't realize what ramifications would come from it. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, as she struggled to pick herself up off the ground. A distant echo—a noise of footsteps—caused her to turn her head, her cheek pressed against the shockingly cold metal of the bridge. Through the dancing black dots, she swore she saw a blurry figure standing at the end of the bridge. When the figure rushed towards her, she felt a tug of familiarity pulled at her soul and a name fell off her lips before she could help herself, "Aya? My Aya?"

And then the world fell out from underneath her.

* * *

 _48 BCE_

 _Siwa Oasis_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

Outwardly, Siwa had not seemed to change.

The same buildings and the same people, but there was a fear now. A fear that tainted the gentle free spirit of the Egyptian people, triggered by the horrors that unfolded only a year ago and the suffering under the pharaoh's unkind rule ever since. His jaw clenched tight when they passed a group of soldiers, one that was proclaiming, "You owe all that you have, your farms, your goods, your children; you owe your very lives to His Highness Ptolemy!"

Bayek's golden gaze swept over the people. They looked weary and beaten down, starved thin and as if their limbs should not keep them upright. It made a white hot fire burn in the base of his gut, but he knew that he couldn't confront these soldiers outright here and now. After they passed the scene, Bayek hissed underneath his breath, "The villagers are drained of life."

Hepzefa nodded, grimly. "No one can make a move in the _wahat_ without being questioned, threatened, taxed or beaten. We have all learned to obey and keep our heads down," his friend stated, an edge of anger and sadness to his tone. "You see how it is."

"Yes, I can," Bayek said, knowing that he could not leave Siwa until he did something to help them. He had grown up here, knew most of these faces, and while he could not end Ptolemy's madness outright, he could alleviate some the pains that his home suffered. "For now, let us not drawn attention."

The camels jogged through the village, through the pass with bull statues that lined the sides of the road, and beyond the market towards the very edges of town. Bayek eyed the group of guards on horse that rushed towards them, and only released his breath one they passed without incident.

"Are you going to go to your house?" Hepzefa asked, his tone light.

Bayek's expression shuttered. "There is nothing there for me."

Hepzefa opened his mouth, and then looked away, shamed to have brought up a raw wound.

Bayek exhaled a sigh, wiping the sweat dripping down his brow. The sun light up the world, and pushed away shadows, but at times, the sun exacted a high price by boiling the people beneath it alive. "Tell me about the one known as The Ibis," he requested, turning the conversation away from the mention of his house and the inconsolable grief that came with it. His anger gave him focus, it cut deep, but it didn't leave him with the feeling of being helpless. "I would learn more of my enemy before I exact my rightful revenge."

"The Ibis may be his moniker, but his real name is Meduamun," Hepfeza replied, a pinched expression on his face.

"Is he here?" Bayek asked. All his information told him that The Ibis had returned to Siwa, which made his heart turn black with anger. How dare one of the masked ones return to this place? After what they had done, they did not have the right.

"He is a plague on the oasis. As you can see, the soldiers have become more brutal since he arrived. Before, they got drunk and fought with villagers. Now that Medunamun is here, they are disciplined and vicious," Hepzefa commented, a worried frown upon his face. He looked around him at the village with a deep seeded sadness in his gaze. "And the people have no way of fighting back."

"All the more reason to kill the Ibis," Bayek said, his eyes narrowed against the sun.

"Do not take him lightly. He is lean and sinewy, but very powerful," Hepfeza warned his best friend, with a quelling look. "He had earned his power through cruelty and clever means, and he will strike you down in your haste."

"I will take heed of your advice," Bayek promised, to put Hepzefa's mind at ease.

Before they reached Hepzefa's home, several citizens exclaimed in joy at seeing that Bayek was back. "It's Bayek! Mommy, look, Bayek is back!" and "By the gods Amun and Iset, Bayek is back in Siwa!" He greeted his old friends, the bittersweet nostalgia tugged at his heart. Finally, he entered the house where Hepzefa waited patiently.

"Rest, my friend," Hepzefa told him, gently. "It has been a difficult day."

"I have no interest in rest. I have to prepare for the battle with the Ibis."

Before Hepzefa could say another word, an older woman entered the hut frantic and furious. Despite the hobble way she walked, she moved with the guileless of a person half her age. She was dressed in the traditional robes of the healer, her jewelry clinking together as she moved. "Hepzefa? Hepzefa! Once again, the soldiers—" She halted in place, her dark eyes widening and a small smile appeared on her face. "Bayek?"

Bayek felt his face split into a wide grin. "Rabiah, my Rabiah," he greeted, pulling the tiny woman yet formidable woman into a hug. Rabiah had been the temple healer and had helped taken care of him, even when he was a child.

"I have been worried about you," Rabiah admonished him, lightly.

"You know me, you should be worried," Bayek chuckled, releasing her from his embrace.

Rabiah clucked her tongue in disapproval now that he was up close, and she grasped his chin in her hand, her dark eyes flickering over his wounds. "Look at you. Cuts, contusions…" She told him, shaking her head side to side. "You look like something the hyena dragged in."

"I'm fine, Bayek."

"Nonsense." Rabiah easily called his bluff. "Sit, sit, sit. I'll take care of you."

Bayek was tempted to argue, but one fierce look from Rabiah, and he held up his hands in surrender. He took a seat upon the edge of the long seat, and stated, amused, "You haven't changed."

Rabiah took the pitcher of water from Hepzefa, and poured into a bowl. Dipping a clean cloth, she let it soak up the water and then wrung it out before she grasped Bayek's bloody and wounded arm. "You and Aya, I've always patched you two up, made excuses to your parents…times have changed, but you, I can count on," she recalled, her voice filled with sadness and wistfulness. It was no surprise that eventually Bayek's exhaustion caught up with him, as Rabiah told a story about his wild youth and he fell asleep to her soothing and warm voice. He did not know how long he laid there, only that when his eyes pulled open that the afternoon sun was blazing in through the doorway. With a groan, he rose off the bed and ran his fingers over the bandages. He stumbled to his feet, and reapplied his armor and weapons before he walked out of the house.

He found Hepzefa practicing his swordplay on the dummies made out of straw and sacks. His friend blinked, and then smiled at his approaching, dropping his sword to this side. "Slumbering Osiris, I thought you would never wake up!" Hepzefa teased him.

"Rabiah patched me up and I just…" Bayek shrugged, with a wan smile.

Hepzefa expression turned solemn. "I let you sleep. You need to be alert to tangle with Medunamun. In fact, my friend…" He gestured for Bayek to follow him over to the shed where he kept his weapons hidden away. He retrieved a fine bow from his things, and held it out to Bayek.

Bayek took it, carefully. "A new bow?"

"See if you like it. Best spot to hit is right in the head. You will need swiftness to take out the soldiers at the temple to clear your way to The Ibis," Hepzefa said, sheathing his blade around his waist. He grabbed a quiver full of arrows, and handed them to Bayek. "I would normally say you could rely upon Benipe to repair your weapons and armor, but the soldiers have taken any supplies for such crafting to their fort."

"I can do it myself," Bayek reassured him, slinging the quiver over his shoulder.

"Good thing, too. Your armor has seen better days," he tapped Bayek's chest plate that was torn and cracked.

"Hepzefa!

Hepzefa and Bayek whirled around to see a woman running towards the house. Her face twisted up in fear and when she came to a stop, she had to bend over to catch her breath. "What is it?" Hepzefa asked, concerned.

"Soldiers are coming for you!" The woman said, as soon as she found her voice. "I ran as fast as I could, but they could be here any second. You must hide."

Hepzefa gritted his teeth together. "Go!" He told the young woman, who immediately obeyed his instructions. He grasped Bayek by the arm, and tugged him along. "Come quickly!"

Grass and weeds above waist height surrounded the front side of Hepzefa's house. Ducking into the thicket, Bayek and Hepzefa managed to hide themselves carefully just before the sound of thunderous footsteps could be heard. Only a minute later, three soldiers marched up towards the house. "Make sure no one gets out of this house alive," the leader of the three stated, his voice sharp and dark. One guard with a torch and an oil jar when around to the backside of the house to block the rear exit, and another went into the house to search it.

"Nek!" Fear flashed through Hepzefa's eyes, and his voice was a hushed, hurried whisper. "They will find my letters to you and to the rebels. They will set fire to my place, and I will be executed."

Bayek clasped his friend's shoulder and gave a quick, comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. I will take care of this," he promised, his voice barely audible. His golden eyes bore with lethal intent on the guard's back. "Keep low and stay out of sight."

"Hepzefa! We're just here to talk. Nomarch Rubjek's been killed. Your friend the Medjay may have been involved! Come out if you wish to clear his name!" The guard shouted at the house, unaware of the Medjay carefully creeping upon on him. Using the greenery to hide himself, Bayek drew his dagger from his boot and as soon as his was within reach, he struck out with the swiftness of a lion. He grabbed the soldier by his head with one hand and the other dragged the blood clean across his throat. The man couldn't shout, his vocal cords ruined and dropped the ground.

Bayek darted around the side of the house, using the shadows to his advantage. He pressed his back against the stone wall, and peered around the corner only for a heartbeat. The soldier stood, shifting on his feet idly with the torch held tight in his hand. He had placed the jar of oil at his feet, and Bayek's nimble fingers withdrew an arrow from the quiver. He drew the arrow horizontal and long slung before he moved around the corner, and released it. It struck the jar with enough force to shatter the hard clay, and the oil splattered everywhere in a black, sticky mess. The soldier jumped, his hands fumbled with the torch and it dropped right into the oil. The fire ravenously spread, greedily licking up the oil and snaking its way up the soldier's body.

The man hollered and screamed, trying to put the flames out.

"What in the Duat is going on?" The soldier from inside the house demanded, and rushed outside to see what the commotion was about.

Bayek had another arrow notched, and released it. It went clean through the man's skull, and he dropped to the ground dead. He used another arrow to put the burning man out of his misery. He did not relish in ending these men's lives, they were like cattle only doing and going where their master told them yet for their blindness, justice demanded they be held accountable for the atrocities they committed under Medunamun's order.

The sun had disappeared entirely from the sky, leaving only beams of light that shimmered around the horizon. Bayek twisted his bow between his fingers, and turned at Hepzefa's approach. "We will need to do something about the bodies."

"The Greeks do not tend to their dead in the ways that we do. They merely bury them, so I shall take the bodies to the temple under the cover of night and see they find proper rest," Hepzefa stated, running hand over his head. "They will be given rights and buried out of sight before the Captain can man a search for them. It is not the first time soldiers have gone missing, the desert is a cruel and unforgiving mistress at the best of times."

"That she is," Bayek agreed, with a weary sigh. He looked across the desert sands, the mountains in the distance and recalled how cruel that the desert. The wounds the desert had left upon his soul and mind had scarred over, but instead of fading with time, it only grew. No amount of prayer or thought got him closer to answers, to why it had happened. But where prayers failed, Bayek had taken matters into his own hands and he would find the answers even if he had to rip them out of the hearts of his enemies to do so.

* * *

The next morning, the bodies were gone. The blood that had been split had been made to appear like it had come from an old steer that had been put out to pasture, and now had been butchered for meat. The people of the town were quick to cover for Hepzefa, a telltale sign of how good and worthy a protector he had been to them. Hepzefa may doubt himself, but Bayek didn't. Bayek could see that Siwa couldn't be in better hands, but he would still lend his friend a hand to help ease the weight of his burdens. "I still cannot thank you enough, Bayek," Hepzefa commented, over their breakfast of meat and figs. "You already have such trouble upon your head, and you still aided me."

"No amount of trouble could stop me from helping a friend," Bayek said, giving him a half-smile. He would not allow his actions to harm the people he cared about more than they already had. "But you aren't the only one in Siwa in need of saving from the soldiers?"

"A sad truth that. All the problems that the villagers have come to me, but try as I might, I cannot help everyone," Hepzefa admitted, chuckling. He wiped the juice that leaked out of the corner of his mouth, and chased the fruit down with water.

Bayek quirked up a brow. "So you're telling me you do not have the powers of a god?" He asked, with mischievousness glowing in his golden eyes. He took a piece of meat off, and popped it into his mouth.

Hepzefa laughed for a moment, but when it subsided, he looked out beyond his terrace with a light frown. "The roof of everyone's suffering, the real problem is that man you want to kill: Medunamun. The people were hopeful when he first arrived. Even I was blinded with hope, thinking that surely things would improve." His head bowed, pain and shame etched into his features. "We soon learned the truth, when he beat the temple priests, burn crops letting people starve and has innocent men executed for false crimes. With no one able to stand up to him, he revealed himself as the monster he was."

"Even monsters can be slain," Bayek said, the food seething in his gut. He pushed his plate away unable to eat anymore. "I will kill him, and Siwa will be cleansed from his evil, I swear it."

Hepzefa nodded, slowly. "I pray that Amun will guide your way and see you to victory," he told him, earnestly. The man paused, his eyes flickered as if something had just occurred to him and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Or would you prefer Senu as your eyes?"

Bayek's head jerked upward. "Senu? Senu is alive?"

Hepzefa nodded, smiling brightly. He put his fingers up to his lips, and whistled. An eagle's cry could be heard from above, and Bayek was on his feet, his eyes peering up at the sky. His heart thumped in his chest with joy and happiness when he saw a familiar set of wings shadowed against the sun. The eagle swooped down, gracefully cutting through the air and Bayek held out his arm with no fear. Senu, his faithful companion, landed on his outstretched arm. Senu was beautiful and majestic, the large bird covered with dark copper and tan colored feathers that had a glossy sheen underneath the light. Her golden gaze was sharp, intelligent in the way that more human than animal. "Senu, old girl! In fine form," he stated, his voice clogged with emotions. His fingers stroked her feathers with a gentle touch, and the eagle chirped playfully nipping at his armor. He could not describe the loss he felt when he thought Senu had died during that dark day nearly a year ago, the pain that went through him when he did not see her in the sky.

His connection to Senu ran deeper than anyone else, save for one. His bond-mystical and inexplicable—allowed him to share her vision, to see through her eyes and soar together as if they were of one mind. He had thought her like so many other things lost to him forever. He had felt blinded without her, and now a piece of the deep void inside of him was filled.

"Rabiah nursed her to health," Hepzefa explained, gently.

Bayek smiled, his eyes shining. "I must thank her."

"She is at the temple, working the best she can to heal and tend the wounded if you wish to thank her immediately. The people will look to you for guidance, they are desperate for a savior, Bayek," Hepzefa added, with a shrug of his shoulder. "They will help you if you help them. Bonds of compassion and kindness are stronger than those woven by fear."

Bayek picked the last strip of meat off his plate, treating Senu with it. The eagle's feathers shuddered with pleasure as it swallowed down the food. "I understand," he nodded at Hepzefa. "I will help in any way I can. First though, I make to hunt in the north. My broken armor is just a beacon for an enemy's blade."

He had left his camel at the village, preferring to run across the sands on his own two feet when hunting. It gave a measure of control that riding on the back of a camel or horse could not provide. Senu circled dutifully above him, guiding him along the way through the palm trees and weeds that sprung up from the earth the closer he got to the water's edge. He paused, his head tilted to the right. He could hear it just faintly, the soft stomps of hooves. A herd of antelope were nearby grazing, and he would have to be careful not to startle them. He moved with measured steps, the sound silent against the sands and his pulse throbbed in the base of his throat. He held an arrow at the ready as he moved around the palm trees, moving towards the place that Senu flew above.

The gazelle were a simple, temperate beauty; the antithesis of beasts like the lion who were a savage untamed in their splendor. Raising his bow, he lined up the shot and released the arrow. It whistled through the air, and struck one of the gazelle along the shoulder blade. He let out a oath underneath his breath. He had been aiming for the heart, to give the creature a swift and merciful death. Instead, the gazelle cried out in alarm and took off running. He had to chase after it because he knew that the wound was bad enough that it would cause infection and a long, painful death. He could not in good conscious allow such a gentle creature to suffer so. His feet raced across the sands, with Senu following the gazelle from above as the herd broke apart in fear and panic.

Each breath was hard won by the end of it, Bayek dripping sweat and exhaustion. The gazelle had reached the side of the cliff, before it had came to a slow, hobble. It whimpered with each gutful of air it drew in, and shakily moved on it's legs. Bayek felt sorrow and sympathy well up in his chest, knowing intimately the struggle for survival the animal was going through. "Forgive me, gentle soul, if I had any other way I would leave you and yours alone, but know that I will end your pain," he spoke, his voice regretful. It was a cruel necessity to have to hunt, but he would honor the creature the best way he could. Drawing an arrow back, he stared at the wide brown eyes and his heart clenched tight in his chest before he released the arrow. It struck the gazelle through head, and the animal felt no more.

"Thanks to Neith, Goddess of Hunting," he murmured the familiar prayer, but he couldn't step towards the animal. For a solid minute, he stood there staying down as the blood soaked into the sand. He let out a mournful sigh, and walked over to the gazelle when he felt himself become rooted to the spot. Several yards ahead hidden within the base of the great mountain and cliffs was an opening, a cave. The sight of it sent Bayek's heart to his throat. _The Gods toyed with him to bring him here_ , he thought to himself, and he wanted to turn away and forget that he saw it. In his heart, he knew that he could not.

Bayek picked up the animal, lifting it on his shoulder. If he left it outside while he ventured into the caves, then a pack of hyenas or flock of vultures would devour it. He walked forward, each step took every ounce of courage that he had inside of him. The coolness of the cave was a stark contrast to the heat of the day, and the walls shrouded him in darkness. He knew the cave by heart, and he set the gazelle down on a slab of rock before his hands searched for the torch he knew was left by the entrance. His hand wrapped around the torch, and he set about lighting it with his dagger and a piece of flint. It took a couple of tries, but the wrappings around the top of the torch still had enough oil to make it light.

The flame illuminated the tomb, revealing the crevices that had been craved into the reddish stone to house the deceased. Spider webs stretched across the room, exploding in a flash once the fire touched them and Bayek frowned, heavily. "The tomb has become unkempt. The Ibis and his soldiers must not allow the villagers to come tend to it," Bayek murmured to himself, venturing further into the tomb. The tomb held multiple chambers, the most notable being the central chamber which held a giant sarcophagus several feet deep on one end opposite a great, metal gate. A stele dating back to the Old Kingdom with ancient writing inscribed upon it was set before it. The locals dead were buried here, but in passage, disconnected from the rest of the tomb had been set aside for the Medjay who guarded of the Siwa Oasis.

It lacked the ornamentation and finery that the main part of the tomb held, and crevices dug into the walls to rest the dead without sarcophagi much in the way that the Romans did. He walked into the side cave, lighting up the braziers along his way and finally came a halt in front of his grandfather. He cleaned the cobwebs away, and whispered the last lines of the Medjay's prayer to honor his grandfather in the only way he could, "Come forth by day, and I will guide you home."

His mother, Ahmose, had been buried here as well. While she had not been a Medjay, she rested here in place of his father, Medjay Sabu, who had been murdered by a mercenary Bion several years ago. Bayek had been near death, and had not been able to recover his father's body. By the time he had returned, it had been swallowed up by the desert. His mother had grieved herself to death only two years later, only hanging on long enough to see that the family would live on. Bayek wiped away the dust and dirt, paying his respect by leaving her an offering of coin and figs. It was a scarce offering, less than he would like to showering her with to preserve her in her afterlife, but he had been ill equipped to come visit the dead on this day.

Bayek turned, his torch illuminating a small passage to the right. His stomach lurched violently for it was the cause of his fear, the reason that he hesitated to enter this place. He feared to go through that tunnel, but he knew that he must. Bayek could not leave this place without going to him, and so his feet moved with a mind of their own. They drew him deeper into the cave until he was faced with the sight that destroyed him. It was a sight that would always destroy him.

It was alabaster child sized coffin set into an alcove, and decorated with red hand prints. Dozens of wax candles had been placed on top of the stone tables carved from the walls, and the sacred canopic jars set on the tomb undisturbed. The air rushed out of his lungs at the sight of the sarcophagus, and his heart wedged tight in his throat. The burn of tears prickled at his eyes and his voice failed him, he collapsed to his knees before the shrine. His hand reaching out to touch the sarcophagus, only to stop himself from sullying it with the gazelle's blood that coated his hands. _The blood of an innocent_ , the thought lanced through him with an unforgiving force. He bowed his head, tears pouring down his cheeks and insurmountable wave of grief crashed through his soul.

"It is…" Bayek whispered, clenching his eyes closed. A sob wracked through him that he couldn't choke down. "It is peaceful here, my son."

* * *

 _March 24, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _General Hospital_

A sound drew Elizabeth out of her slumber. A steady beep that came from somewhere on her right, and her brows furrowed together. She was laid back against a firm, uncomfortable mattress that was nothing like her bed at home, and she was dressed in a thin itchy dress. Her body ached from head to toe as if she had been put through the ringer. There was pinch of pain in her hand, and she moved it, she could feel the tubes connected to it. Her heart throbbed, her mind too jumbled and broken for coherent thought. It was sweltering hot, her entire body felt like it was stuck in an oven and there was no relief to the agitated feeling. A panic began to lick like flames underneath her skin, and she needed to get to her sons. She needed to get to Jake and Cameron. Something bad was going to happen, she just knew it.

She gave a painful moan, tugging the blanket off of her and she stumbled out of the hospital bed just as the door opened. She shivered when her knees hit the cool tile, but before she could stand up, there were hands grasping her arm. "Are you kidding me?" Dr. Patrick Drake stated, with an exasperated sigh. He was a charming, suave dark haired man with a boyish smile and was Elizabeth's longtime friend. In her feverish haze she flinched away from him, not recognizing him.

"My boys need me," she said, fighting against him.

"No, he needs you to get better. You had a seizure brought on by stress and exhaustion," Patrick said, dodging the hands that punched and slapped at him. "You might be the worst patient I have had, you know that?"

"I need to get home!"

"No, no. You cannot go home like this," Patrick said, managing to quell her weak attempts at escape. He lifted her up and put her back into the bed. He pulled the blanket back of her, and resituated her IV stand before making sure she didn't do any damage to her hand by tugging on the IV. "You have a fever of 103.6 right now, and you trying to escape the hospital isn't making it better."

"I-I'm fine. I have to get home," she protested, her eyes glazed over with fear. "I'm worried about my kids. There is something bad happening and I have to protect them. You have let me go home."

"Elizabeth—"

"I was sinking. It was dark. And he found me. How does he always find me?" Elizabeth groaned, slumping back against her pillow. She had exhausted her energy for the moment, but the terror did not die. It festered in her blood, telling her to get up and to fight.

"Yeah, if Jason hadn't found you," Patrick said, "you could have been a lot worse off then you are now."

"How is she doing?" Monica Quartermain appeared at the door.

Patrick glanced at the woman, knowing that she and Elizabeth hadn't had the best relationship lately. When Jake died and it had been revealed that Jason was the boy's father, Monica had verbally attacked Elizabeth. She had been angry to be kept away from her grandson, never admitting that her own scheme to sue Elizabeth for custody among other things had impacted the decision that Jake be kept away from the Quartermain family. Still while her grief could be understandable, the way Monica treated Elizabeth, who hadn't even buried her child yet, was exceeding less so. "Her fever is spiking," Patrick replied, tersely.

Elizabeth jolted, hearing Jake and Cameron's voices calling out to her. "No, no, no. I have to get to them. Don't you hear them?" She asked, looking frantically between Patrick and Monica. "You have to help me!"

"We are doing everything we can," Monica said, as Patrick was setting up some new medicine in her IV drop.

"No, my boys!"

Monica paused, her eyes flickered. "Cameron is fine," she said, a slight edge to her tone.

"Cameron is fine?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"Yes, he is fine," Patrick affirmed, patting her hand gently.

"What about Jake?" Elizabeth got a lost and haunted look on her face. "Is Jake not fine? Why didn't you say anything about Jake?" She flinched back, her eyes dilated with fear. "Jake, he needs me. He needs me. I can feel it. He's so scared. He's so scared. My baby," she started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Elizabeth?" A voice came from the doorway.

Elizabeth looked up, and barely saw him through her tears. A relieved breath tore through her to see Jason standing there. Jason was the only one who believed her when Jake had been kidnapped. The police had accused her of hurting her baby in a fit of post-partum depression, her ex-husband Lucky spearheading such allegation. Jason believed her, and brought her baby home. When the Russian took Jake in retaliation to Jason, he had fought through them and brought her baby home again. He always listened and believed her, she knew he wouldn't dismiss her like Monica and Patrick were. Jason would bring Jake home, and everything would be alright. He crossed the room, brushing past Monica and was at her side. "You came," she croaked out, and she sank into his arms when he wrapped them around her. "I'm so scared for my boys."

"It's—it's okay. They're fine. I'll go check on them for you," Jason promised, ignoring the sharp look that Patrick sent him.

"No! No. No. You have to help me, and only you can help me," Elizabeth said, through her sobs.

"Okay. W-whatever you want. I'll always be here for you," Jason told her, stroking her hair gently. She could feel that he was telling the truth. She could feel the sincerity in his promise.

"It's Jake."

"Elizabeth…" Jason's face twisted into despair, and he pulled her tighter against him.

"He's in trouble, Jason. Our little boy is in trouble. Please, Jason," she begged, her voice desperate and pleading. "You have to help me save our little boy. Please. Please…help me save him."

* * *

END OF CHAPTER!

Author's Note 1: I decided to post the second chapter to give you all a better look at kind of where this story is going, and how Elizabeth and Bayek connect.

References and Language:

1.) _Wahat_ (Egyptian) Oasis

Author's Note 2: That was an emotionally draining chapter to write. I hurt my feelings. I may have cried, and now need some chocolate ice cream to smooth this over. With Bayek's turmoil on top of Elizabeth's, ugggh. I know to AC fans this may seem like I'm giving a lot of background on General Hospital characters, but in order to understand the relationship Elizabeth has with everyone good and bad, it is necessary. It is also exceedingly difficult to condense down roughly fourteen years of history (Rebecca Herbst who played Elizabeth Webber started in 1997 and in 2011, it would have been 14 years. She is still on the show to this day) that includes her love life, her family relationships, friends and children. It is also a soap opera so the drama and stuff is hella crazy at times, but I'm doing my best to try not to overload anyone. To GH fans, you will notice that I have went back over the GH episodes and scripts of 2011 and have parts of it that have been edited to fit the fanfic. I want to keep true to the characters versus cannon, but I enjoy being able to use the good parts of the show that were impactful. It is a sad thing that GH writers let so many good plots and storylines slip through their fingers. GH has really become more about what the writers want versus what the audience wants to see. I'll stick to fan fiction now thanks.

RRs are appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, c8499145, kcke2pen, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, vonnicus36, aphass, for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, Meghie03, for the favs!

I want to thank, trini12180, notenoughlove, kcke2pen, arcoiris0502, Guest (3 reviews), leasmom, Sarah, jsmith78, for the reviews!

Guest: I want to thank you so much for all three reviews you left (I am assuming they are yours, if I have a mix up please let me know lol). **R1:** I always love a good Elizabeth Webber story, too. There are a lot of amazing authors who write for her on here to keep the Elizabeth we all alive while the show sadly doesn't. AC is a big leap in genre from GH in many aspects so I get that not everyone will know it, but hopefully the story will be enjoyable nonetheless. Elizabeth building herself back up from the mess her life has become has always been needed, so I'm glad that everyone loves that she has her back bone back and isn't giving it up. Exactly. It was made about Jasam, Lucky's manpain and Luke's drinking more than it was about a mother who had gone through the unthinkable. It was a shame because while I hated they killed Jake off, they gave all the material that should have been Elizabeth's away and were trying to write her off the show given that it was around the time BH was fired. I loved writing that convo with Elizabeth and Cameron. We don't get to see them interact, and this should have happened after Jake's accident. **R2:** Glad that you like the chapter. Yes, Bayek and Elizabeth have gone through the unthinkable and both are filled with such anger and grief, and the parallels between the past and present will start to grow in time. Jason will get his moments to show his grief, though it will primarily focused on Elizabeth. I wished Liz got to stand up to Sam, too. It wasn't fair that Sam's past is always never brought up, but Elizabeth's constantly. All soap characters have ugly pasts, and it shouldn't be shied away from. I wanted to use Liason's history as much as I can because it was beautiful before the PTBs mucked it up for no good reason. Jason and Elizabeth always found each other when they needed each other most. Monica will get hers, that I can promise that. **R3:** thank you. I hope you will enjoy them, if you do check them out. I'm glad you enjoy my stories so much. Don't feel bad, I even pout when I don't put Liason together even if I enjoy writing the other pairings. Aw, you're making me blush! I hope you will enjoy what I have in store.

Sarah: Thank you! I added it just in case, glad that my foresight was right. lol

 **GH Warning: This is set around Jake's "death" time period, and I was very unhappy with the show at this point, and the way characters were being portrayed. Sam, Sonny, Carly, Lucky, Lulu, Maxie, Monica, at different intervals in 2011 made me angry. Though it wasn't so much Sam's behavior—I appreciated she didn't want a kid to replace Jake even though Carly pushed her—but the whole Jake death was ultimately to give Jason the green light to start a family with Sam. It was contrived, and even though I don't like Jasam, I could have written a way better way for them to realize they wanted a family and it was okay to have one despite their lifestyle then using Liason's child as plot point. So that's why I can't write nice for her in this particular story (though I do have story with Elizabeth and Sam as leads planned out in the future featuring Samson and Liason.)**

 **This is story will take a few chapters to really start gaining some steam, and it's direction to become clear on Elizabeth's part.**

History Fact: Ancient Egyptians believed that Ma'at, Goddess of Truth and Justice, would judge souls upon entry into the afterlife, in the Egyptian underworld known as the Duat. It was called the weighing of the heart (or weighing of the souls) where the person's heart would be weighed against Ma'at's feather, and if found lighter than the feather, the person would be rewarded with going to Aaru. If a heart is found unworthy it was devoured by the goddess Ammit and its owner condemned to remain in the Duat forever. (The goddess Ammit was not the only soul devourer to be feared. Worse than she was the God of Destruction, Apep or Apophis, who on occasion was written to have devoured soul and consume them)

* * *

 **THREE**

 **"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."**  
 **― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed**

* * *

 _March 25, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _General Hospital_

 _Images of Jason, Jake and Cameron danced in her mind. Her boys vanished like smoke, fear cutting her in the gut. She asked for them, tried to get to them. "Cameron is fine," a faint voice whispered, echoing through the dark abyss that surrounded her. But what about Jake? Why weren't they talking about Jake? Had something happened? Screeching tires, blood on the pavement, and bile rushed up her esophagus. Somewhere in the abyss, a demon snake known as Apep, god of evil and destruction, slithered about waiting to devour her heart at the first sign of weakness. She could hear herself pleading with Jason to find Khemu—no, her son's name was Jake. Who was Khemu? Khemu was Jake? Her thoughts didn't make any sense._

 _She recalled warm arms. The smell of sandalwood and musk. It was Jason. He found her, and she could hear herself start to plead with him to find their baby, to bring their son home when her veins turned black, a poison running through them causing all the thoughts and dreams to fade entirely._

Elizabeth groaned, lightly. Her eyes fluttered, and then she grimaced at the bright lights beaming down on her. The beeps of the heart monitor increased ever so slightly, and she started to sit upward when a hand rest on her shoulder to stop her. She managed to peel her eyes open to see Epiphany Jones, the Head Nurse. "W-what is going on?" She croaked, her throat hurt as if it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

Epiphany who had been checking Elizabeth's vitals turned towards her. "Easy there, Nurse Webber. The last thing you need to do is strain yourself," she said, gently. If Epiphany was being gentle then that meant things had gotten bad. The dark skin full-figure goddess of sass and no nonsense attitude usually did not spare time to mince words. Her tongue was a weapon, and she used at all opportunities though she did have a soft spot for Elizabeth. Though she would not say it out loud, she often thought of Elizabeth as the daughter she never had. She got Elizabeth a cup of water, and helped her to sip through the straw. "Better?"

"Better," Elizabeth whispered, the water soothed her throat. She laid back against the pillow, and her breaths were slow and labored. "How long have I been here?"

"Two days."

"Cameron?" She asked, tiredly.

"He is doing fine. Nicolas has taken care of him. Apparently, Spencer had decreed that Cameron should stay with them until you recovered," Epiphany reassured her. "He brought him to visit your earlier, but you were still out of it because of the medicine Dr. Drake gave you."

"Medicine?" Elizabeth hated the cobweb sensation that coated every thought. She struggled to string together why she was in the hospital and why she needed medicine. Shaking her head slightly, she asked, "What happened, Epiphany? How did I get here?"

"What do you remember?" Epiphany asked, instead of answering.

"I…" Elizabeth paused for a moment, and then released a heavy sigh. "I was with Steve and Olivia. I had to pick a c-coffin out for Jake," she whispered, her voice stumbled through the sentence. "I got into a fight with Sam who was lurking around the mortuary then I fought with Steve, and decided to go for a walk to clear my head. My life is a maelstrom and I am barely holding on, I just needed a second to breathe. I think I ended up at Vista Point, but it's all blurry after that."

Epiphany sat down in the bedside chair, her face very serious and grim. "You had a seizure and then collapsed. Dr. Drake said it appears to be triggered from stress and a lack of sleep, instead of an acute medical condition. Jason brought you in, and lucky he did. Who knows how worse of you could have been if he hadn't found you."

"Jason?" Elizabeth felt her heart jolt. "How did he find me?"

"I don't know," Epiphany replied, quietly. "He just did. He rushed you in here, and paced all around the waiting room. You had a really bad fever, and started shouting. The boy about broke his neck from whiplash, he rushed into your room so fast and wouldn't leave your side until Dr. Drake assured him that you were okay. He probably would have stayed longer if a certain chief of staff hadn't been constantly by his side and drove him away."

Elizabeth frowned, deeply. "Monica was there?"

Monica Quartermain was Jason's mother, though the relationship between mother and son was tenuous at best. There were years of ups and down that Jason had with the Quartermain family, starting with the accident that had fundamentally changed him as a person over a decade ago. His brother AJ had driven a car while drunk, and the crash ended up putting Jason a coma. When he woke, he had no memories of his life prior to that moment. The "golden" boy's personality shifted into something reserved and stoic. The Quartermains had tried to mold him back into the person he once was, and he lashed out angrily at them. Eventually, he dropped the name Quartermain and took up his grandmother Lila's last name, since she was the only one not pressuring him. He ended up in the employment of Sonny Corinthos, a mob boss much to the family's horror. Ever since then it had been scheme after scheme to get Jason to return to the family fold, using his nephew Michael as pawn, to using his sister Emily to appeal to his better nature and so much more. The way she sought custody of Jake a year ago on Jason's "behalf", and lost because Jason put a stop to it, had soured the personal and working relationship between Monica and Elizabeth.

Monica was convinced that Elizabeth badgered Jason into dropping the custody complaint, or some such nonsense. Elizabeth hadn't spoken to Jason since the break up at the courthouse two and half years ago, and Jason stayed out of the boys' lives to keep them safe from dangers of the mob. Or at least, that's the excuse he gave when he broke off their engagement and walked away from their family. So Monica had eagerly taken to Sam, whom was the antithesis to Elizabeth in her eyes, and would eventually get Jason to let the Quartermain family back into his life. So that's why she had been hovering, to make sure that Jason didn't become too attached to Elizabeth as that would ruin all her well-to-do plans for Jason and Sam and their future.

Elizabeth shook her head. She had once idolized Monica, looked up to her as a friend and colleague. Emily Quartermain had been Elizabeth's best friend since high school and she had been friendly with the family for years. It was startling easy how Monica threw that all under the bus and it made Elizabeth see the woman for who she really was. "My fever was that bad?" She asked, and then her eyebrows climbed to her hairline when she saw Epiphany looked very sad. "What, Epiphany? What is it?"

Epiphany looked away, a split second of hesitance. "You were talking about Jake."

Elizabeth felt her expression drop and her stomach twist painfully. Her tongue moistened her dry lips, and she ran her fingers through her hair, looking everywhere but at the nurse. "I…I was talking about Jake?" She asked, her voice so small. Part of her didn't want to know. Part of her didn't want to hear it, feeling that the pain was just going to get worse when it was already so bad.

"You were…" Epiphany sighed, heavily. "You were convinced he needed your help and that you needed to save him."

The words were like daggers sinking into her soul, and her hands covered her ears half-heartedly as if to shield her from any more. Her blue eyes looked at Epiphany, gleaming with tears and she felt never more childlike than she did in this moment. Epiphany reached out, pulling her into the tight hug. "I know. I know it hurts," Epiphany said, softly. "When my son, Stan, died I felt the weight of the world crushing me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, but somehow I kept moving even when every thought went back to him. There were times where I would forget, where I would wake up, and it would take a moment to sink in. Where I was busy in the daily motions, and I would just think about him, and then suddenly remember that he is gone. It's a pain that goes on and on, and somehow you have to move on despite it. It's not easy, I won't lie, but you can do it. You have to do it, for yourself and that little boy you still have at home."

Elizabeth reached up, scrubbing away the tears. "I know that I have to. I am trying so hard, but everywhere I go, I swear that I see him. I keep seeing Jake everywhere I go. I saw him in the hospital hallway, and then I saw him after I had gotten a toy—a yellow truck for him to ride on—that I had ordered him. I saw him playing with it, and then in the next second he is gone," she confessed, her chin quivered violently. She clenched her eyes so tightly shut as if trying to purge the image from her mind, but she couldn't. It felt like a betrayal, it felt like she was trying to erase him, and she couldn't do that. "It's driving me insane. I see him and my heart feels so full—full of love and happiness, and the next moment when he is gone, I am just reminded that I will never get to hold him again. My arms _ache_ to hold my baby, to hold him tight and never let him go. I keep going over that night again and again over what I could have done differently. Like why didn't I make Jake go play upstairs with Cameron? Why did I just bring him into the kitchen with me? Why couldn't I have remembered to just lock that damn door?" She raged at herself, her voice raw with gut-wrenching agony. Not even Epiphany's hug could shield her from the pain that tore her up inside. "What _kind_ of mother am _I_?"

Epiphany broke the hug, and took Elizabeth chin in her hand. "Don't you ever doubt yourself as a mother, Elizabeth Webber," she stated, her tone fierce and firm. "I have known you for years now. I have seen you beaten down and at your worse, but you know what else I saw? I saw a woman who devoted her life to her children. Who sacrificed so much to give them a happy home, and showered them with unconditional love. You are a good mother, Elizabeth. What happened that night doesn't change that, do you understand me?"

A dry sob shuddered through Elizabeth. "I'll try," was all she could promise. She couldn't just magically flip a switch, and believe what Epiphany stated. Emotions and thoughts just didn't work like that. Epiphany stayed with her a while longer, but eventually left to do her nursing duties before Monica came looking for her. Elizabeth used the phone beside the bed to call Cassidine Manor, and talk to Cameron. He missed her and told her out his recent bad dream with little Spencer chiming in the background ever so often to her amusement. She promised him that she would be home soon, and made a mental note to herself to seek a child therapist for Cameron to speak about. He had put a lot of guilt on his tiny little shoulders that he should have to bear, and maybe talking to someone who wasn't directly tied to the tragedy would be easier than talking to her.

The door to her hospital room, and she lifted her head expecting the doctor when instead she saw her ex-husband Lucky Spencer. "What are you doing here?" Elizabeth demanded, her voice sharp and eyes full of suspicion. It tore through her with all the subtly of a riptide, the same burning feeling that had pulsed through Bayek's veins when he faced down Rubjek suddenly flooded through her blood and pulsed outward until it consumed every inch of her skin. Her entire body went rigid, and her teeth gnashed together as she fought the instinct to lash out at Lucky. Her breath trembled through her like wind that swept up the sands and became a violent desert storm.

"What am I doing here?" Lucky asked, frowning. "I'm here to see you, Elizabeth. I heard that Jason found you up at Vista Point, and you were out cold. I know that we haven't been married for almost five years now, but we will always be important to one another."

"Lucky, you aren't my husband. You aren't even my friend. There has been a civil word spoken between us since our divorce years ago so forgive me if I don't believe you suddenly came to see me out of the goodness of your heart," Elizabeth told him, her voice quaking with anger. Her fingers knotted into the hospital blanket, and the heartbeat on the monitor started to beep a little bit faster. "I don't want you here. You need to leave now."

"Elizabeth, don't be that way," Lucky said, looking at her beseechingly. "I know that losing Jake had been difficult, but we can get through this together. We always come back together at the toughest points in our lives. It part of our permanent lock, and why we will always love each other."

Elizabeth stared at him, unable to believe his gall. Rage flashed in her blue eyes before they narrowed into dangerous slits, and her fingers curled around the strap of her purse in order to bite back the urge to lash out at him. "That permanent lock was a fantasy made up by two naïve teenagers who thought they could take on the world. Time has changed us both, Lucky, and in some ways, not for the better," she told him, frostily. "After our marriage fell apart, I have never once looked at you in that light again. We have been through the ringer three times, and I'm not looking for a fourth, especially after what you did the night of Jake's accident."

"Elizabeth, Carly needed a donor—" Lucky tried to explain.

Elizabeth cut him off with an angry swipe of her hand. "There were tests still being ran! I had called for a second opinion to be done by Patrick just in case the first was wrong, and yeah, maybe it wouldn't have come any different than the first. Maybe the tests would have still shown that Jake was brain dead," she said, her voice wobbled with anger and grief. Her shoulders rose with each wrathful breath she drew in, and she glared venomously at him. A dark satisfaction welled up inside of her when she saw Lucky take a step back and a flicker of fear crashed through his eyes. "But you took that away from me. You told the doctors to stop the tests, and then you had my baby cut up for spare parts!"

"Another child's life was on the line!"

"Jax had another donor set up. There was no need to do that to Jake," Elizabeth snarled at him, angrily. "And you had no right to make that decision. You aren't Jake's father, you had no right!"

"Maybe if you hadn't slept with Jason, I would be," Lucky retorted, with a sneer.

"Do you really think you can hurt me with that? Trying to make me out to be some adulteress and horrible wife, when you know that the truth isn't that simple," Elizabeth told him, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew what he was trying to do. What he always tried to do. He thought if he made her feel guilty or ashamed that she would run with her tail between her legs. That she would give up, and roll over. She wasn't that Elizabeth anymore. She was done being the doormat, done forgiving people when they constantly threw her past in her face over and over to browbeat her into doing what they wanted her to do. It may have taken her years, but she found her spine again, and they would have to pry it from her cold dead fingers.

"If you had been more of a faithful wife then—" Lucky started, loudly.

"After your back injury, I endured so much for the sake of your love!" Elizabeth spoke over him, and pointed an accusing finger at his face. "I let you put me through too much abuse, I let my son live that environment when I should have gotten him out of it, but some stupid part of me was so loyal to you! When you got addicted to pills and got violent, I stayed because I believed that I could get through to you. When you constantly accused me of cheating on you with Patrick or Leo or any man who looked at me a little too long and I wasn't, I let it go because I dismissed it as the pills talking. You shoved me around, you cheated on me with Maxie Jones because she was giving you drugs to fuel you addiction, you hid pills in my son's toy box, and you fired off a gun when you were watching Cameron. And every time I told myself I should walk away before I paid the price for that so called love, I let your family guilt me into staying.

"And the night that I went to Jason—just to talk to him because he only one not trying shove me back to you every time I had enough and was about to walk away—it was after I found you in our bed with Maxie, for the third time," she said, her tone vehement and harsh. She was vibrating with anger and if it hadn't been for the fact she was strapped to so many machines, she wasn't sure she could be trusted not to strangle Lucky. Hell, she may end up deciding to take the machines with her and lunge at him anyways. "It that moment, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. I knew that our marriage was over, and I needed a friend—an unbiased friend who would hear me out. I had no way of knowing when I got to Jason that he had just witness Sam, who he had been in love with at the time, rutting on the floor with her stepfather. We talked, we drank, but we never planned on sleeping together. Never planned on giving into the pieces of us that always had been in love with each other, but I don't regret it. I don't regret that night or the fact that it gave me Jake."

Lucky looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "You are a heartless bitch, you know that?"

The door was shoved open with enough force for it to slam against the wall and rattled the picture of bird so greatly it fell off. Nicolas Cassidine, one of Elizabeth's few friends who hadn't turned their backs on her when her marriage with Lucky dissolved, stood there with a furious glare on his face. "Lucky, you need to leave," Nicolas told his half-brother, his tone held a bite like the crack of a whip. "Now."

Lucky looked between the pair, and sneered, "Why are you protecting her? Is she fucking you now?"

"No, but even if we were that wouldn't be any of your business," Nicolas stated, with a cool eyebrow arched. The Cassidine Prince held himself with the haughty dignity that those of the gentry were famous for, and that always made Lucky bristle.

"I am your family," Lucky snapped. "She is—"

"My best friend, the woman you once loved, and the person who has faced down my evil grandmother and drank poison and so much more to protect us and our family," Nicolas listed off, without batting an eye at Lucky's anger. "If you have any respect for the friendship and love you once shared and cherished for Elizabeth, then you'll walk out of that door without another word. Or I'll call hospital security."

Lucky turned red, his eyes glittered with malice. "Whatever."

As soon as Lucky stormed out of the room, Nicolas shut the door behind him and picked up the painting off of the floor. He placed it back on the nail, and straightened it out before he made his way over to Elizabeth's bedside. "I'm sorry about that. They never should have allowed him in here," the Prince apologized to Elizabeth, sinking into the seat beside her bed. "And he had no right to treat you that way."

"The hospital shouldn't have allowed a lot of things, but when does that stop them from screwing stuff up? As for Lucky, I don't think he will every treat me differently Nicolas unless he thinks he is getting something out of it," Elizabeth stated, tiredly. She ran her fingers through her hair, and then looked at Nicolas with a small sheepish smile. "Thanks for having my back though. I know it's not easy because I'm not well liked by the Spencers, and they really are your only family here besides Alexis. And your grandmother isn't worth mentioning, sorry."

"Don't be. After all the evil things Helena has done, I don't blame anyone for throwing a bit shade at her," Nicolas sighed, heavily. "How are you holding up?"

"I'd be better if I knew when I was getting out of here," Elizabeth admitted, fiddling with her IV. "I know, I know, it's a bit of a cliché that hospital workers are the worst patients, but I don't want to be here anymore than I have to. Since Jake's death…" She bit her lower lip, glancing around the walls that once had been her sanctuary. Becoming a surgical nurse hadn't been her dream, she had wanted to be a great painter one day, but being a nurse gave her a sense of purpose that painting had lacked. It was a way to help people and save as many lives as possible. Now the walls felt cold and unwelcoming, like she was unwanted intruder and no matter how much reassurances that Epiphany and Patrick gave her, she couldn't shake that feeling away. It hadn't helped that Monica Quartermain, the hospital's Chief of Staff, had made her hatred for Elizabeth very well-known and was the reason Elizabeth had contemplating up and quitting. "I'll just be better when I'm home and with Cameron."

"I understand that," Nicolas nodded. "I have Alfred picking them up from school. Wasn't sure if you had seen Epiphany yet, but I told her to tell you as soon as you woke up."

"She did," Elizabeth said, with a small smile. It was a relief to know that Nicolas had stepped up to take care of Cameron, though part of her wondered why her brother hadn't. She supposed with the way things are at the hospital, he might not have been able to get time off. "Thank you for doing that. The doctor said that it was stress and lack of sleep is why I had the seizure and lost consciousness. That I needed to stay hydrated better, and sleep better."

"Is he prescribing you anything?" Nicolas asked.

"Sleep medicine," Elizabeth said, nose winkling at the thought of it. Her dreams lately had been in-between strange and nightmarish. Many people would be happy to get rid of those dreams, and have a restful slumber. She didn't want to lose them, despite it all. These dreams caused something to happen inside of her, a feeling deep in her soul that unfurled in the wake of these dreams—something old and powerful, that pushed her onward when she herself felt like giving up and collapsing down. It was her safety net and she needed that safety net. "And he suggested that I go see a therapist."

Nicolas sighed, giving her a weak smile. "I know you don't want to hear it—"

"I don't," she said, in a sarcastic singsong voice while giving him a sharp look.

"—but the doctor may be right, Elizabeth," he continued, arching a brow back at her. He had known since they were teenagers, he had learned to deal with her quirks and sass years ago. "I'm just saying that it might not be a bad idea to talk to someone about it. Someone who doesn't have an opinion on the situation."

"It's Port Charles, Nicolas," Elizabeth said, jaw set tight. "Everyone has an opinion."

"That's…unfortunately true."

Elizabeth sat there, silent for a few moments. Her blue eyes flickered away from the water stain on the ceiling in the far corner of the room to the door and she contemplated her life, and the Lucky that she once loved. There was no trace of him in the angry bitter man who verbally harassed her, and sometimes, she wondered if there had ever had been. "Nicolas, do you ever wonder if Lucky ever really came back? After Helena kidnapped and faked his death," Elizabeth said, wrapping her arms around her midsection. "Sometimes, I wondered if we all saw what we wanted to see when Lucky was brought home. That we were all so thankful and grateful to have Lucky back and for it to be true that we duped ourselves into not believing the angry, bitter person was who he truly was now and that the boy we all loved was gone for good."

She remembered that time with a mixture of feelings, not a lot of them particularly nice ones. Lucky had been rescued from Helena Cassidine, but where a sweet boy had been, a violent man stood in his place. She ignored it because she, like everyone else, had been so happy for his miraculous return from the dead. She made excuses for his behavior, to the point that she had hurt Jason—whom she had really been in love with at the time even if she hadn't fully realized that until it was too late. Jason left Port Charles to get away from the pain, but before he had left, he had asked Elizabeth to go with him on that snowy night in 2001. Sometimes, she wondered how things would have been different if she had just taken his hand and ran away with him.

It was one of her biggest regrets.

Instead, she stayed with Lucky out of obligation to her childhood sweetheart, feeling that she owed him because he had helped her piece herself back together after she had been raped. Everyone constantly reminded her of that, too. Made her feel like she was the only one that could save Lucky from his demons, and she hadn't realized how much of her own identity she had chipped away to try to fix Lucky. She had stopped going out with friends, stopped painting, and if she did anything without him, he would be angry and upset, even if she had just run to grab a hot chocolate at Kelly's. Two days before she walked down the aisle, she broke off the engagement having a horrible epiphany that she would lose herself completely if she married Lucky then and there.

She just wished that four years later she hadn't let him in again. She wished she hadn't been fooled by his steady and perfect mask that made her believe that he had grown and changed from the angry man that had returned to Port Charles. On the surface, he had appeared so much like the Lucky she had fallen in love with and there was temptation in familiar things and old patterns. He had been so good with Cameron, and it had been so easy to just fall back into contentment instead of trying to face the unknown. But then the vows were said, the marriage sealed in front of loved ones, and slowly the perfect mask fell apart. She saw the resentful, angry man that still lied underneath the smiles and sweet nothings.

Then he had been hurt while on the job, trying to arrest Manny Ruiz and everything tumbled apart from there. It had been one of the biggest disasters of Elizabeth's life, and there were certain things, she so sorely wished she had done differently.

Nicolas nodded. "Yeah, I think about it on occasion. I think my grandmother knew that it would hurt us more to have him back, but not have him back. I think it's why she let him be rescued so easily," the dark haired prince said, looking out at the harbor with a frown on his face. "He thinks that you'll forgive him. I know that you won't. You have a big heart and you are capable of forgiving so much, much more than you should, but his actions regarding Jake. You shouldn't have to forgive my brother for that."

"You know the bitter part of me wonders if he didn't do it just to punish me for loving Jason. Lucky has always hated my friendship and the times it was something more that I had with Jason," Elizabeth whispered out. Her expression was solemn, and eyes were dark with thoughts. "Even after all that Lucky has done, I don't want to think he is capable of that, but in my heart there is just this anger—and it doesn't get quiet, it doesn't let me breath. It claws and it tears into me every second that I am awake. The only thing that makes it ease up is when I hold Cameron."

"How is Cameron?" Nicolas asked, softly.

"He is trying to be so strong, but he feels guilty," Elizabeth said, sadly. She wiped the tears away from her face, and she drew in a deep breath trying to compose herself against the onslaught of emotions. "He…he didn't want to play with Jake that night. Ignored me and went to his room in one of those moods that all kids go through, and now he feels that if he had just came downstairs then maybe Jake wouldn't have gone outside. He's is seven years old and he is carrying the weight of his baby brother's death, and nothing I say seems to break through. I have made inquiries to the clinic about setting up therapy for him, but haven't scheduled an appointment. With his nightmares, I think I really have to."

"The clinic?" Nicolas gave her a confused look. "Why not General Hospital?"

"I don't want him at General Hospital, especially with Monica acting the way she is. I am adult and I can handle anything Monica dishes out at me, but Cameron shouldn't have to go through that on top of everything else," Elizabeth told him, seriously.

"Why is Monica giving you such grief?"

"Because she blames me because she never got to know Jake."

"What?" Nicolas's eyes widened. "Jason is her son. If anyone owed her the truth about Jake's paternity and existence, it should be him not you. And Monica alienated you with her trying to sue you for custody. Did she really think after that scheme you'd let her around your child? If Sonny or Mike had ever attempted that to get custody of Spencer, I would have been outraged," the Cassidine Prince commented, vehemently. His dark eyes were filled with anger on her behalf, and his arms folded over his chest.

"Try telling her that," Elizabeth chuckled, darkly. Her shoulders slumped, feeling exhaustion needling at her and she looked at Nicolas beseechingly. "I know you have done a lot already for me. Sticking up for me with Lucky and listening to me prattle onward about my hot mess of a life, but could you do one last thing?"

"Anything," he smiled.

"Please ask the doctor when I'm getting out of here," she bemoaned, dramatically. "You know how much I hate being a patient."

Nicolas pattered her hand, consolingly. "I'll go check on it for you."

"You are a godsend, Nicolas. Truly."

* * *

Jason felt his hands clenched into tight fists, watching Lucky leave the room and enter the elevator. He had called Nicolas to let him know about Elizabeth, and encouraged him to be there for her where he couldn't. He swallowed the knot of emotion in his throat, recalling the look of pity and understanding in the other man's gaze when he asked for Nicolas to not mention him to Elizabeth. She was going through so much, and she didn't need him making things that much harder on her. When their relationship ended, Jason had no illusions about the heart broken state he had left her in. His actions thereafter only added to that pain, and he couldn't look at her without a tremendous amount of pain and guilt welling up in side of him.

He raked a hand down his face, turning to leave. Each step further away from her made him feel that he was carving out his own heart from his chest with a dull wooden spoon, and by the time he walked down all the flights of stairs, he felt hollow and broken inside. He wanted to go in there, to be the one at her side, but he had to fight the impulse with all of his willpower. He made his way through the hallways, and avoided Carly in the parking lot who was there for Jocelyn. He had already checked on his goddaughter, but ever since Carly learned Elizabeth was in the hospital, she had been gnawing at the bit. Carly would never understand his love for Elizabeth, and never would accept that Elizabeth and her boys was the most important thing in Jason's heart. It's why he sacrificed so much to ensure their safety.

But that hadn't, had it? Jake was dead. Elizabeth was in shambles, and Cameron carried guilt that wasn't his to bear. Somehow, he felt the burden of all of this was on him. On his decision to walk away, but he couldn't voice those thoughts out loud. They got choked in the back of his throat, a painful truth that he would never utter. Twenty minutes later, he arrived home at his penthouse to find Spinelli there working away to upgrade their cyber-security with a bag of Cheetos on the couch beside him, and orange soda bubbling in a glass beside his computer.

"Greetings, Stone Cold," Spinelli smiled. "How is the Loyal One?"

"Elizabeth is doing better. She's conscious, and Nicolas is with her right now," Jason said, his voice soft and tired. He shrugged off his leather jacket, and stared at it dispassionately before he slung it carelessly across his desk chair. "Okay, listen. I need you to do some research for me."

"Hi, Jason!" Molly Davis, the younger half-sister of Sam McCall, said before Jason could finish appearing out of his kitchen area.

Jason froze, for all of a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to see Sam. I have to have help with this science project and wanted to know if she wanted to help me," Molly commented, blithely. "Isn't she with you?"

"No," Jason shook his head, bewildered at why she would think Sam would be in his penthouse. "Sam would be at her own apartment across town. Did you come here by yourself?"

"No. I had Kristina drop me off before she went to see her boyfriend, Kiefer. I didn't want to be stuck watching them suck face all evening," Molly said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Is Sam coming over later? I can wait around until then."

"No, Sam isn't coming over," Jason told her, frowning deeply. "I'll have a guard drive you to her place. If she not there, they can take you to your mother."

Molly peered up at Jason, thoughtfully. "Why not call Sam to come here? I mean, after I'm done with my science project then you two can spend some quality time together," she negotiated, with a sly little smile.

He gave her a long look. "I'm calling you a car."

The smile vanished off the little girl's face, and she looked visibly upset. "Wouldn't my way be easier? Besides, Sam and you haven't gone out and done anything. Sam is always at the house for movie nights and stuff, so the least you can do is muster up enough energy to be romantic to her for one night or do you not care about your relationship?" The young girl ranted, cheeks flushed with indignant and anger.

"What?" Jason said, confused.

"Uh, Molly, Stone Cold and Fair Samantha are more…reserved about their relationship. It's very private and delicate topic, and not one for such young inexperienced ears such as yourself," Spinelli tried to intervene, but was quickly quieted by the look of disbelief that Jason sent him.

"But in books and plays, people talk about their love all the time. In books, lovers can't wait to be together, so why are you pretending you two aren't even dating?" Molly demanded, with a stubborn expression on her face. "You should be willing to discuss that with Sam since she got back together with you even after you broke her heart. She is too worried to bring it up, because she is afraid you'll stomp—"

"Molly, I get that you want to make things better for Sam and you want her happy, she is your sister, but I'm not with Sam," Jason told her, firmly. A deep frown sat upon his brow, and his jaw was clenched tight. His hands were on his hips, and he stared down at the young girl like he didn't know what to make of her or her declarations. "I have helped her and _Spinelli,_ " he stressed, "on a few of their PI cases, but that's it. I don't know where you got the idea that Sam and I had reconciled. We haven't and we never will."

Molly stared up at him with wide eyes, shocked. "But Sam said after the trip to Mexico that you two reconciled your feels for one another," she whispered out, taken aback by Jason dismissing Sam so completely. "You are like Heathcliff and Catherine from Wuthering Heights. You are destined to be together."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "Sam told you what?"

Spinelli lifted his hand, like a school kid waiting to be called on by the teacher. "Uh, Stone Cold, Fair Samantha had given that same impression to me that you two were on way to happy bliss," he said, quietly as if afraid to incur his wrath. "I had wondered because your actions didn't indicant that you were in a relationship, or a happy man. You never showed Sam any affection in public, or even in private that I know of, but I had no reason to believe that the Fair One was being deceitful. I don't think she meant any harm, just was hoping that by putting it out there that she would hope that you'd finally make a move?"

Jason groaned, raking a hand down his face. "Okay, look, Sam's…elaborate story will have to wait another day. I have bigger concerns to worry about," he shook his head, side to side. It made sense now all the little remarks from Carly and Sonny about how pleased they were that he was taking his own happiness in his hands and living his life like he should. They assumed he was back with Sam. "Molly, I'm calling a car to pick you up."

"No, I'm not done here," Molly said, defiantly. "I don't understand why you won't get back together with Sam. She is perfect for you. She fits your life completely. You can't just lead her on and then break her heart all over again."

"Sam knows that I don't see her in that light, and if she does think that we have some chance then she is mistaken," Jason told her, lightly. He wasn't going to be cruel to an eleven year old who only knew a glossed up version of the past, and saw her older sister as some kind of idol to be admired. But he wasn't going to let Molly leave with a misguided impression that Sam had apparently driven into the young girl's mind. "It was never my intention to lead her on, and I will explain that to her, but that will be a discussion that will take place between Sam and I. Not anyone else."

Molly pouted, sullenly. She shot glares Jason's back while he called a guard to come and escort her to Sam's so she could finish up her science project. Once the girl had gone, Jason turned to Spinelli to return to their early discussion. "The research I was discussing earlier it's personal," he started, carefully.

"I gathered since it involves the Maternal One," Spinelli said, hesitantly.

"I want you to look into what the PCPD have dug up about…" Jason's eyes darted away, his voice catch in his throat and an uncharacteristic uncertainty crossed over his features. In the next moment, his sharp features hardened into determination and his blue eyes flashed like lightning. "I want you to see what the PCPD has discovered about the accident that killed my son. I want to know who is responsible."

Spinelli inclined his head. "With haste, Stone Cold."

* * *

 _Siwa Oasis_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _48 BCE_

Grief tasted like ashes in his mouth, Bayek sat there before his son's tomb with his heart so heavy in his chest and his eyes red rimmed from the tears that he shed. He had thought by now that he would have used all his tears up, but his sorrow always took hold tightly and proved him wrong. "Khemu," he whispered his son's name, his head dropped downward. His knees had grown cold and numb, he had sat there for so long. Minutes? Hours? His lungs were so tight, so crushed underneath the weight of his soul that he thought for sure that his anguish would swallow him whole, but then the next breath came. And then the one after that. He continued to thrive and live, and he felt so undeserving of it all.

He had become angry and dark, twisted by his misery. His son had been a light, bright shining and full of hope. It should be Khemu that still lived, not him. The fate that the Gods had bestowed upon him was a cruel one, a fate created by his own failure and the only way he could continue onward was to see his son's soul into the Field of Golden Reeds, to know that his child did not wander the Duat forever. Thus his labors of bringing the sick masked men to justice and ending whatever terror they sought to unleash here in Siwa nearly a year ago.

His chest shuddered and contracted with each breath, he did not want to leave this place. He did not want to leave his child here in the cold darkness, but knew that he could not stay. There were still too much to do before either of them could truly rest. He lifted the torch lighting on the candles, the orange light bathed the tomb in burnt gold and he left an offering of fruits, gold, and a dagger so that Khemu may guard himself from whatever lingered in the Duat. "Soon, my son, I will bring you rest," he promised, his voice jagged and he rose to his feet slowly. Leaving the tomb felt like a betrayal, Bayek could not stop himself from feeling this way or the renewed strength of his grief that made each step forward that much harder.

But his purpose gave him something to cling to.

So he walked across the desert sands with the gazelle upon his shoulder; the dead animal a fitting metaphor for the true weight that he carried upon his soul.

* * *

He reached Siwa before the sun started to set, and went about skinning the animal for its hide. Thoughts and feelings swirled around his head like a thundercloud, and the villagers stayed away from him as if sensing his black mood. He would never forgive himself for what happened to his child. He could only find solace in bringing the evil responsible to justice. His mind then thought of his beautiful wife, Aya. She too hunted for justice, shattered just as he had been at their child's death. Aya was using her family's contacts in Alexandria to learn anything more about the masked men and their unclear purpose. He longed to be reunited with her, but their paths had diverged for a reason. Soon those same paths would draw them close once more, he could only persevere all that he came against until that day and then they shall complete their task of vengeance.

Khemu deserved no less.

His golden eyes lifted, as if drawn by Ra himself to the sun that loomed in the sky and haloed in its light was his home that sat on top of the hill. It had been boarded up, and abandoned. His heart twisted into a sharp knot. It felt like a lifetime ago that he lived there—not as the man he is now—but who he had been before. A father, a protector, a husband in a life that had been full of joy and plenty; now all he the joys he had were few, all the plenty had withered away and while he still was a husband, he was a father no longer and could he call himself a protector when he failed his own child? He dropped his gaze back down to his work, and after he got the pelt free, he portioned out the meat. Hepzefa would have much use of it, feeding not only himself but those that starved in Siwa.

He let Hepzefa know about the meat, and his friend thanked him.

Bayek made his way through town, cautious of the guards that patrolled the streets and entered the blacksmith shop. While Bayek could repair his own armor, the blacksmith could do it more efficiently and faster than he.

Benipe, the local smith, turned at the sound of his footsteps and blinked in shock. "Bayek, is that really you? I heard whispers of your return, but never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Benipe greeted the Medjay, with a wide smile. "It is good that you have returned to Siwa, even if only for a short time. The town needs a Medjay more than ever."

"I will do what I can, Benipe," Bayek dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I have brought animal hides to repair my armor, and I was hoping that you'd be able to take on the labor. I had thought to do the task myself, but time is of the essences besides you have a far more skilled touch then I when it comes to such a craft. I have gold enough to pay you for the work."

"Ah, Bayek, I would need no pay from you," Benipe told him, hands wrung together and his head shaking side to side. "But alas, I cannot give you the aid in which you need. The Guard Captain took my tools, claiming I was rebel off all things."

"He was not wrong," Bayek smirked.

Benipe snorted, lightly. "True enough. Still I am lucky that it was just my livelihood that those _neket iadet_ soldiers took and not my life along with it. Until I can replace my equipment, Siwa is without a blacksmith."

"What of the common people's needs? A blacksmith is more than just crafting weapons," Bayek stated, frowning heavily.

"You think those soldiers care? They won't weep for our suffering not matter how little or great. I am sorry, Bayek," Benipe sighed, regretfully. "I cannot help you. Not until I get my hammer and tongs back. And I have to get that ugly as Apep Captain off my ass!"

"Where is this captain?" Bayek asked. "If he confiscated the tools, then he may still have them."

"At the foot of the hills west of here, Camp Shetjeh," Benipe replied. "Though I don't hold out hope for my tools. The bastard has likely melted it down for scrap metal."

Bayek racked a hand across his unkempt beard. "I will go there, see if I can find your tools. At the very least, you will not have to deal with Captain any longer," the Medjay promised, with a sharp nod. He left the skins with Benipe, and made his way through the village. His gait brisk and lethal like a leopard's, he made it to the camp within minutes and knelt down, hiding in the thick grass that stood nearly four feet high. He closed his golden eyes, his soul searching for that connection that he held with Senu and a rush flooded through, as his eyes suddenly became her sight above. It was a strange, exhilarating feeling that coursed through him when he became one with Senu.

It was a warm sensation that trickled down from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes. A level of awareness that went beyond most weren't capable of, and in that moment, he was not just a man. He was an eagle, feeling the wind soar beneath Senu's wings and seeing through her eyes as if they were his own. Their minds were melded into one, and together they scouted out the camp. Senu circled Camp Shetjeh above, and their shared gaze moved to pinpoint enemies and more. There were eight guards in total; three slumbered, night watchman no doubt. The Captain was up in the tower, while two patrolled around and the last two ate by the campfire.

Bayek opened his eyes, coming back into himself.

The brazier sat up in a tower to the south side of the camp. If lit, then it would signal soldiers from afar that the camp was under attack and needed reinforcements. He would need to set a trap, coat the wood in a potent mixture of powder that would exploded if anyone dared to light the flame. He used the grass and fence to cover him from plain sight, it would not do good to be spotted now. He planned to set a trap on the brazier then make his way to the south side and climb up to the Captain's post above, hopefully without any soldiers setting eyes upon him. The less damage he did, the less repercussions the villagers would face and taking out the Guard Captain would leave the camp and its soldiers in disarray for the time being.

He darted out of the grass, sliding across the sand swiftly before he rushed into the thicket of bushes, his golden gaze sharp and narrowed at the soldiers who sat around the campfire. They did not appear to notice a thing, and the Medjay held still as a patrolling guard passed by where he hid. His heartbeat jumped at the base of his throat, and he hurriedly scaled the nearby wall. He just managed to slip over the edge before the guard came back around. He held his breath, straining his ear to listen and only released the air in his lungs when the soldier continued his patrol. He slipped his hands into the satchel at his waist, and retrieved the explosion mixture. He poured it over the wood inside of the brazier, his golden gaze bounced around the camp below uneasily. With the deed down, he dropped from the tower and rolled into the bushes below.

"Did you hear that?" A voice from nearby asked.

Bayek pressed his back against the wall, his body shielded from sight by the tent and his hand rested upon the pommel of his blade. His heart hammered against his ribcage, and his jaw set taut with weary anticipation of a battle. He heard two footsteps towards his hiding spot, the way the dried grass crackled beneath feet and he started to pull his sword free when a second voice halted him.

"Must have been your imagination," the second voice said, with a snort. "No one would dare be skulking around here. Eat your food and be quiet."

Bayek thanked the gods when he heard the footsteps retreat. His hand fell away from his sword, and he carefully made his way to the south side of the cliff. It would be a bit of a climb, and treacherous to say the least, but there were no soldiers here. No one would believe a soul would dare or could climb such terrain, but his father had taught him how to when he had been naught a boy. Where others would face an obstacle, Bayek saw limitless possibilities. His fingers dug into the hard stone, careful to find handholds and footholds to help his ascent upward.

His breath was sharp and harsh by the time he reached the top, and his flexed his fingers to relieve the stinging tension once he was on solid ground. He eyed the Guard Captain that sat in the tower, his back faced away from Bayek's position with a drink in hand and languid posture. Sliding the bow off of his back, Bayek notched back an arrow and made sure to be careful with his aim. He adjusted the position of the bow to compensate for the light wind that rolled on by, and then released the arrow. It sliced through the air with a sharp _whoosh_ before it slammed into the back of the Guard Captain's neck. The man let out a wet choking noise, clawing at his throat while Bayek rushed up to him quickly, and ended his misery with a dagger to the heart.

The body dropped the ground, and Bayek let out a sigh of relief. For once, everything went according to plan and he could avoid for the time being a hard fight. He stepped over the dead man, and he started searching through the Captain's belongings. It was not long that he had found Benipe's tools which had been tossed into a barrel with other pieces of scrap metal. He looped the tools through his belt and made the long climb down. His muscles and bones ached, but that did not slow him down one bit. His feet hit the sand, his eyes cast upward towards the sky and his feet led him away the camp. He did not know how long it would take for the other soldiers to realize their Captain was dead, but it was best to be far away from there before that happened.

He walked across the shifting sands, his feet leading him and it wasn't until he was at the base of the hill which his house sat that he realized where he had unintentionally gone. There was a heavy pain that settled upon his heart, his golden eyes looked at the same boarded up home with great sorrow and he was tempted to turn away. To turn his back and not face the pain, but he couldn't turn away. He couldn't hide from it and he found himself marching up to the building that was once his home with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Using his sword, he hacked away at the boards until they were falling apart and he ripped the last piece away roughly with his hand. He let out a low grunt and let the wood fall to the ground. There was a moment where he hesitated, lingering in front of that threshold before he took a step into the house. It was cold, quiet and dark. It was like stepping into a holy resting place where only spirits and gods dared linger, and Bayek felt like he was a trespasser. He could see the images of his life before Khemu's death, simple in its splendor bur more precious than all the gold in Egypt. Aya teaching Khemu how to read and write in both the Hieratic Script and Greek language by the fireplace, her head would lift just as he crossed the threshold and the secretive smile that curved on her beautiful lips every time she saw him. He would stand there for a moment, soaking in the scene before Khemu would realize that he was home and launch himself across the house into his arms.

His arms _ached_ to hold his child again.

The house was empty now, a hollow mockery of the warm and loving home that it once had been. It crushed his soul to see it so barren, covered in dust and cobwebs. Scarabs scattered across the floor, running from the vibrations his feet made as he stepped further into the house. Everything had changed with Khemu's death. The only way he knew how to overcome his grief was through his path of vengeance, whereas Aya had chosen to return to her place of birth, Alexandria. Aya could not deal with the depths of her grief nor know how to handle Bayek's quest for revenge, and the last he had heard was that she was studying at the Grand Library that housed thousands of scrolls with her cousin, Phanos. His heart squeezed tight at the pain of being so far away from his beloved, but understood that she grieved differently than he did. He only hoped that Aya found what she was looking for in those scrolls, knowing one day soon they would be reunited when his journey came to an end.

But would it be the same? Their love was still there, he was sure of it but could it endure all the hardship foisted upon them and come out unscathed? Aya was the only thing he was certain of in the violent world his life had become, but still doubts plagued him. They had both been changed by Khemu's death, and sometimes he was not sure if it was for the better. His gaze fell upon a crate in the corner of the room just below the staircase, covered in a thick layer of dust and undisturbed for quite some time. Curious as to why it was left, Bayek walked over to it and knelt down on one knee. He lifted the lid of the crate with ease, and a huff of surprise fell from his lips at the sight of his father's old sword.

He had forgotten about it in his haste, and realized that Aya must have left it here, knowing that he would return at some point in time. He carefully picked up the blade, testing the sharp edge against his thumb. He let out a slight hiss when the metal bit into his skin, but was pleased to find that it was still sharp after all this time. He would take the weapon with him, it held not only sentimental value but one could not have too many weapons in these volatile lands. He cut off a bit of fabric from his cloak, using it to bind the blade to his belt. He would see what wares Benipe had to get a proper sheath or hold for his extra sword. He went to close the lid when something small caught his eye, and he went still for a moment.

His hand reached back into the crate, and he withdrew a small figurine.

It was Khemu's favorite toy—a _ba-_ bird carved out of stone and ivory. It was the visage of a human head with a _hedjet_ headdress, and the body of a bird rested upon a rectangular base. He stared down at with a lost and helpless look before he brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes tightly and imagined he was pressing a kiss to Khemu's forehead, like he did every night before he tucked his son safely away in his bed. It was a poor substitute; the cold stone just reminded him of the tomb in which his child would lay for all eternity. He closed the chest, and slipped the toy into his satchel. The toy would be a little piece, a little reminder that would help keep him steady on the uneven and darkened path that he walked.

Bayek rose to his feet, and walked out of the house.

He knew in his heart that he would never return.

* * *

 _March 25, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _General Hospital_

It was nearly six o'clock in the evening before Patrick started the paperwork to discharge her, and she stood out in the waiting room dressed in her normal clothes once more. Thank goodness, she hated hospital gowns to the extreme. A curse fluttered out of her mouth when her eyes caught those of her brother, Steven Lars Webber, across the hospital hub, and she turned to the right to try to make a hasty escape. Sadly, Steven with his long legs managed to reach her side with a few lengthy strides, and his arm grasped her elbow in an uncompromising grip. Her entire body went rigid, and her teeth gnashed together as she fought the instinct to lash out at Steven. Her blue eyes glared daggers at her brother, and she jerked her arm free from his grasp. "Don't come up behind me and grab me like that," she told him, the muscles of her jaw rippled as she clenched her teeth. "You know why I hate. You know better than to do that."

"I just wanted to talk to you," Steven said, hands up in surrender. His face was severe, with disapproval etched into every line of his face and his dark eyes were narrowed. "You could have ended up real hurt, you know that? Walking off like you did only to collapse?"

"I really don't need a lecture right now, so why don't you save it for another day. I'll be sure to schedule you in for next week," Elizabeth retorted, a sharp edge to her voice.

"Do you think you are being funny, Elizabeth?" He demanded, not amused. "We were worried sick over you. We are trying to be there for you and trying to help you out, and you are pushing everyone away."

"Steven, did it ever occur to you that I need space?" she said, rubbing her tired eyes. "That I am not ready to talk about any of this when any of you. That I am trying to remember how to breathe, and be a functional human being, and take of Cameron without adding all your expectations on top of that." _Especially when you won't actually hear out my feelings or thoughts, but just press upon what you think I should do then scolded my like an errant child if I don't do as I am told,_ she added, in her mind.

Her brother, however, was not going to let it simply lie. "Elizabeth, how much sleep have you been getting lately? You look barely put together, and like you haven't been taking care of yourself. How are you taking care of Cameron, if you can't take of yourself?" He demanded, with his hands on his hips.

"Cameron is doing just fine. I can take care of my child and Nicolas has my back," Elizabeth retorted, with a dark look at him. "I may be holding on by a thread, but I have never been some fragile flower that crumbles underneath pain or grief. I have survived several types of hell, and I will survive this one."

"I'm just worried, peanut," Steven replied, with a tired sigh. The stern look melted away into something more contrite and genuine. "I just wish you'd take a vacation to California. Visit our sister and put Port Charles with all its drama behind you."

"Cameron needs stability. His life has been upended, and he is trying so hard to understand what it means that his little brother is now in heaven and that means he won't get to see him anymore," Elizabeth said, her voice low and raw with emotion. "I can't just whisk him off, at the top of a hat. Maybe when summertime arrives I will consider it, but right now, I just need you and everyone else to give me space."

"I am only trying to do what is best for you," Steven said, softly.

"Steven, let me decide what is best for me," Elizabeth told her brother, wearily. "I appreciate that you feel the need to step in and be supportive, but at the end of the day, I have to be the one to make these decisions. I am the one who has to live my life, and I can't let anyone else do it for me."

Steven pinched the ridge of his nose, and exhaled noisily. "Alright, if you don't want to talk to me about your personal life, then why don't you tell me what's going in other things? Like that business that you were looking into investing in? How did that go for you?"

Elizabeth wondered if Steven genuinely wanted to make small talk. She loved her brother, but so often the love of her family and friends came with a price. They all had this idyllic vision of her life where she was happily married with Lucky, and when she made choices that didn't fit that vision, she was treated by the plague by them until she caved into pressure. But she wasn't that girl anymore. She hadn't been for a few years now, and she wasn't reverting back to old habits now. "I decided against investing in Abstergo. There was something about the investors that…put me on edge," Elizabeth admitted, with a slight shrug of her shoulder. She walked over to the Nurses Hub hoping to speak to someone about her release papers, and if she would be out of here in time to take Cameron out to Kelly's.

Something flickered in Steven's eyes, too quick to catch. "Are you sure? That is a big opportunity to let pass you by," he said, his tone idly.

She spared him a quick look out of the corner of her eye. "You were the one against me investing the money Jason gave me in the first place, going on about how it had been blood money and that I should just give it back to him," Elizabeth stated, with an eyebrow arched upward. "Suddenly you are all for it. Why is that?"

"I just figured given the fact that Monica been giving you trouble that you might not want to stick around here much longer. You wouldn't quit unless you had a different way to support yourself is all," Steven said, with a shrug of his shoulder. "This investment could potentially set you up for life."

"Or would be a complete waste of money and time," she countered, with a twitch of her lips. "That money was meant to be there as security for Cameron and Jake, it's why Jason set up the account. While I would love to invest it, and make sure they would never want for anything their entire life, I don't want to gamble away their future. But you are right about one thing. I don't think I am going to be sticking around to this hospital much longer."

Steve went to say more, but his pager on his waistline went off. He checked it then let out a low curse. "I have to go, but promise me, we'll talk later?" He asked, with an imploring look. "And not just about the business stuff, or anything like that. That we will talk about the important stuff, too after you have your space."

"Yeah, we'll talk later," Elizabeth promised. She watched Steve rush off, and let out a deep sigh before she turned on heel. Elizabeth walked up to the counter, and turned away from her brother. She saw Nurse Santiago standing there, and started to inquire about her paperwork when Monica entered the Nurses' Station. She ignored the doctor the best she could, and asked the nurse, "Hey, Sabrina. Has Patrick finished up my release forms?"

Sabrina opened her mouth, but Monica intruded upon the conversation. "I'll take care of this, Nurse Santiago. We have a patient in emergency room 4 that needs someone to go take his vitals," Monica ordered, passing the patient charter to Sabrina. The young nurse gave Elizabeth a quick, sympathetic look before rushing off before she too ended up on the great Dr. Quartermain's bad side.

Elizabeth schooled her features into something detached, but still polite. "Dr. Quartermain, all I need is my release papers. I just need to sign them so I'm no longer considered the hospital's responsibility and get home to my son," she commented, just wanting to get this over with. She had a very long day, and it was catching up with her. "He is not having a good time right now, and as his mom I need to be there for him."

"You don't want to play the mother card with me," Monica countered, her tone clipped. Her finger smashed the keys of the keyboard as she pulled the necessary information up on the computer.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth shot her a piercing look. There was a pulsing sensation; it started at the nape of her throat before spiking upward through her skull with painful precision. A thunderous headache that started to chip at Elizabeth's careful compromised mask of infinite patience and her brows furrowed together into a knot. "You know what? I don't want to know why or what you are trying to imply. Please just find the paperwork, and then we can get out of each other's hair."

"I'm implying that you use your children as pawns," Monica stated, frigidly. She sent Elizabeth a haughty and dark stare. "And you use your so-called grief to latch onto a taken man."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed dangerously. "How dare you? I haven't even put my son in the ground yet and I will be grieving for the loss of him for the rest of my life, you of all people should understand how that feels," she told Monica, her tone filled with brittle anger. She looked upon Monica with a look of revulsion and loathing, not believing the woman would stoop so low right now.

"It's not the first time you've been a victim for Jason, Elizabeth. You've come between Jason and Sam before, and that little display yesterday in your hospital—"

"Monica, it was the fever! I don't even remember it!" Elizabeth snapped, glaring daggers at the woman. Her hands shook like fists at her side, her chest rose and fell with wrathful breaths. "I would never have leaned on Jason otherwise, but even if I were to talk to Jason or go to him for help, it wouldn't be me playing some victim. It never has been me being a victim and wanting Jason to ride to rescue! You know nothing about the depths of my relationship with Jason. Jason and I have known each other for over a decade. We've been friends, we've been more than friends, we've been bad for each other and we've been good for each other. We have a connection through our history and our child that won't change just because of time or any other reason. If Emily could see you now," she added, with a critical glance up and down the woman in front of her, "she would be ashamed."

She marched off, ignoring all else Monica had to say about the release paper or more jabs. She pressed the button to call the elevator with more force than necessary, and murmured a prayer when they opened. She slid in past Carly Corinthos—Jason's self-proclaimed best friend and president of the Hate Elizabeth Club since 1999—and she pressed the buttons for the bottom floor, when she realized Carly was blocking the doors from sliding shut. "Is there something you need?" She asked, her expression implying that there had better not be.

"Look, I know that Jason was the one that found you up on Vista Point, but don't think that this means that he will just drop everything—" Carly started to sprout off, but Elizabeth wasn't having it.

"Yeah, no," Elizabeth said, shoving Carly out of the way and sighed in relief when the elevator doors slide shut before the blond could retaliate. She leaned her head back, bumping it against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she took deep cleansing breaths and tried to calm herself. Some days, she really felt like she was going to push off the deep end and end up taking everyone in Port Charles with her. She pushed all the words and people that didn't matter to the back of her mind, and just told herself that everything was going to be alright once she got home to Cameron.

Her home was the only refuge she felt that she had left.

* * *

References and Languages:

1.) Neket Iadet (Egyptian) Piece of Shit

Neket means: means some, a little, piece

Iadet means: misery, woes, pestilence

So I'm not sure how it translate into "piece of shit", but that's the official translation in AC: Origins. (Thanks to the people and posts on reddit for helping me figure this out)

2.) Hedjet (Egyptian) the white crown of Upper Egypt.

3.) Ba (Egyptian) The spiritual manifestation of a person at the time of their death. *Additionally the Ba-Bird is believed to be the emblem of ascension of the soul after death. In hieroglyphs and art it is depicted as a bird with a human head, possibly adorned with a headdress or disk though there are some that are without it.*

 **Bits of GH Dialogued used from:** 9/24/08, 10/13/09, and 11/17/11

Action Scenes: This chapter didn't offer a lot of action scenes with Bayek fighting, but instead focus on his subterfuge for avoiding unsavory odds. He couldn't outright kill all the soldiers without major backlash befalling Siwa, but the Captain was a problem. Given the rebellion and such, if Bayek killed him without anyone noticing, the soldiers wouldn't have a clear culprit to pin it on and likely would believe the rebels took the man's life. This won't happen every time, especially the Temple of Amun scenes that will be coming up, but it is very much a piece of Assassins Creed-the hiding, sneaking and killing people-and I wanted to showcase that as much as the battle scenes.

Khemu's Toy: I am not entirely sure what Khemu's toy actually is, I haven't played the game in a while so I haven't gone into the inventory to get a better look at it then the brief scene in which Bayek finds it. It has a human head, with a head dress similar to a pharaoh's (so obviously a very important figure) and the body of animal. The closest guess I could figure out researching ancient Egyptian lore and gods was the _Ba-Bird._

Reflections: There are going to be moments where the future reflects the past. Like Bayek coming across Khemu's toy is like the opening scene to this story where Elizabeth has Jake's yellow motorcycle. Bayek being helped by Hepzefa is reflected by Nicolas defending Liz from Lucky and talking to her about how she was doing, and Bayek being tended to by Rabiah is reflected by Epiphany talking and taking care of Liz. There are other beats through the story that will line up and reflect, I will try to make them happen in the same chapter if I can (can't promise all reflections happen like that), but that depends on the flow of the overall story if I can succeed.

Author's Note: The Plot is Rolling with all the pieces coming together! It was time to broaden what is going on beyond Elizabeth's perspective, such as the scene with Sam/Carly and then the scene with Devane/Dante. I know AC fans who didn't watch GH are probably like this way overdramatic, like why would the PCPD allow Sam anywhere near an investigation given all the bad blood between her and Elizabeth? It happened on the show. To me it seemed contrived, in a way to make Sam seemed changed and redeemed from the woman who watched a child get kidnapped and more. I love Kelly Monaco, the actress who plays Sam, but this storyline I wasn't buying it. Was Lucky Spencer all that bad as the writer is writing? Yes, he was. Don't get me wrong Elizabeth made mistakes herself, but Lucky even when she wasn't making mistakes had a controlling and violent attitude towards during and after his addiction. It wasn't healthy, and I never liked him since. Was Monica Quartermain that bad? Yes, she was bad, too. She berated Elizabeth for not knowing Jake when it had been Elizabeth and Jason's decision to keep him safe. She was hateful to Elizabeth, and on the show, they have never cleared the air between the two to my liking to rectify this. Furthermore, no, Lucky is not Rubjek's reincarnation. I get that some might jump to that conclusion given Elizabeth's vehement reaction to him, and how she felt the same anger that Bayek felt towards Rubjek. It is as simple as this, Elizabeth views Lucky a bit responsible for Jake's death. Those secondary tests could have shown Jake was alright, but Lucky went behind her back and did what he did. Rubjek as everyone should know had some part in a tragic event that had destroyed and upended Bayek's life, so that's why the anger is the same. There are all four people that had been reincarnated, primarily Bayek as Elizabeth Webber, but the others will be revealed as the story goes on. I'm not sure if anyone else will be reincarnated beyond the four chosen, but it's idea I am toying with.

RRs are appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, c8499145, kcke2pen, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, vonnicus36, aphass, Starbright62, jasgem for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, Meghie03, killianariel18100, Phasesofthemoon, jasgem for the favs!

I want to thank, trini12180, Twisted Musalih, kcke2pen, arcoiris0502, lrobinson01, Guest, for the reviews!

 **Guest Review:**

 **Guest:** Thank you so much! I haven't wrote a Nic/Liz friendship in a long while, so it felt good to have Nic have Elizabeth's back instead of being another person coming at her. Jason—the Jason I loved on the show—always helped Liz, even if it was in small ways and it made sense that he'd have Nic show up to be there when he couldn't. I can never write Lucky nice, I just don't like him which I think a lot of people can agree with. Thank you! I really loved writing Epiphany and Elizabeth's friendship, we don't get enough of it on the show anymore. I have to admit that writing for Elizabeth and Bayek gives me so much angst. It's made even worse when you realize that technically that they go through this twice since Elizabeth is Bayek's reincarnation. I agree that Bayek has every right to avenge his child, as does Elizabeth. Yep, Aya is alive. I was initially going to have Jason with Sam, but I just couldn't do it. I wanted a Jason who truly meant he'd be alone after Elizabeth, making their separation more tragic and not just forgive and forget what Sam did. Yes, I hate Molly during this time, too! It just wasn't organic, the 2009 Jasam reunion in my eyes because they didn't let the couple do the heavy lifting and instead relied on other characters to push them along. There is a difference between propping and supporting, and GH dropped the ball in my eyes. Maybe I'm biased because I don't like Jasam. Oh, the three reviews were fine, I just wanted to make sure I replied to all of them and had the right person. Lol This story has a lot of Liason, it will have two endings. A canon ending and an alternative ending, one where they end up happy and one they don't end up happy. But I do have a story that I am working on that it a mutli-chapter Liason work, that I hope to have up soon. Thank you again for your review! :D

Pairings: Liason, mentions of Liz/Other

(As much as I love Liason and their relationship will play a big part in this story, I can't promise they are going to be end game here. I keep going back and forth on the issue here. I honestly don't think I will come to a concrete decision until I really get further into the story. But I can promise that there will be an "Alternate Ending" that will show the other outcome, and the reader will get to choose which ending they prefer.)

 **SPOILER:** I know everyone wants to know, but there is good possibility that Jake's accident and subsequent death is not at all as it seems. Take that how you will. ;)

 **History Fact:** Did you know that Ancient Egyptian loved to play board games? Several different games were played after a long day's work on the Nile, including "Mehen" and "Dogs and Jackals," but perhaps the most popular was a game of chance known as "Senet." Senet dates back as far as 3500 B.C. and was played on a long board painted with 30 squares. Each player had a set of pieces that were moved along the board according to rolls of dice or the throwing sticks. While the historians still debate over what the exact rules of Senet's are, there is little doubt of the game's popularity. There are paintings that depict Queen Nefertari playing Senet, and pharaohs like Tutankhamen even had game boards buried with them in their tombs.

* * *

 **FOUR**

 **"Connections with other people affect not only the quality of our lives,**

 **but also our survival."** -Dean Ornish

Elizabeth had just reached the landing of the stairs when a knock came to her door. For a moment, she stopped still startled by the noise and her mind raced through the possible people who could be on the other side of that door. She hesitated to answer it, having enough of people dropping by to console her and her son in their grief. She appreciated everyone's efforts, but it just felt like too much. It took too much to smile and make believe that she was doing fine. She hated living that lie, because everything wasn't fine. When the person knocked again, Elizabeth reluctantly made her way to the front door. She didn't want Cameron to wake up, knowing he had been having trouble sleeping and opened the door with haste. She stopped short at the sight of Anna.

"I apologize. I know that it is late, but there were some things that I wanted to discuss with you in person," Anna smiled, her gaze warm and genuine. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth stuttered, slightly after she overcame her shock. Her grandmother would be appalled about her manners, leaving the new police commissioner of the doorstep and gaping like an idiot. While Elizabeth had met Anna a few times before, but she always still felt a little intimidated by the older woman. Anna Devane was a force of nature, with sharp and intelligent eyes and a capacity for kindness that was only matched by her ability to be ruthless when someone hurt her family. The woman moved with a subtle grace, ingrained into her when she was an agent for the WSB. (Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure what the WSB was, only that they were international security force specifically created to oppose high risk threats.) Anna had chosen to come to Port Charles after retirement since that is where her daughter Robin Scorpio-Drake—Patrick Drake's wife and Elizabeth's friend—now lived, and made up for lost time that she had missed with her family.

Anna entered the house, her footsteps soft and careful. "I imagine that Cameron is asleep?" She asked, cautiously.

"Yes, I just got Cam and Spencer to go to sleep. He has been having bad anxiety because of everything that has happened, and then I was in the hospital and it just…" Elizabeth shrugged, giving a sharp sigh. "It just has been a lot to stress on him. Spencer came to stay the night, and normally those two push each others' buttons, but Spencer has really gone his way to help cheer Cameron up."

"That's good," Anna smiled, slightly. "And how about you, how are you holding up?"

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, hard. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate people's concern, she knew a lot of people had trouble figuring out what to say or do in times of grief, but Elizabeth hated the repetitive lines: _How are you holding up? Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?_ She wasn't holding up, she felt like crumbling. She wasn't alright, she wasn't sure she was going to be alright ever again. There wasn't anything anybody could do, sans going back in time and fixing her mistake. But she bit down that frustration because Anna hadn't done anything to deserve such a reaction. "As well as can be expected. It's hard to find any meaning in my life as I prepare to bury my child, and I have to explain to my other son why his baby brother isn't coming home," Elizabeth replied, gesturing for Anna to sit down on the couch and she took a seat beside the older woman. "It's surreal at times. It's just not right for a parent to outlive their child. There's no way to describe how it feels."

"I wish I could tell you that it gets easier," Anna stated, slipping off her jacket and neatly folding in on the back of the couch. "But what I've learned over the years about grief is that there is no simple getting over it."

Elizabeth gave a small laugh that held no true amusement. "At least, you're honest. Everyone else has just said, give it time and one day the wound will be healed. I don't think time knows how to heal this kind of wound," she said, her voice filled with sadness. "Days go by in blurs, people come and go, and I just have to remind myself to put one foot in front of the other. I have to remind myself that I have be strong and not fall apart because Cameron is looking at me for cues on how to handle everything, and some hours, even breathing feels like an uphill battle."

"Are you parents coming to the funeral? To be there to support you?" Anna inquired, a curious tilt of her head.

"No, they aren't. I got a voice mail explaining that they were on a mission with Doctors Without Borders, and couldn't make the trip back here. It…it's not surprising, I haven't seen my parents since I was a teenager," Elizabeth sighed, heavily.

"Not since you were a teenager?" Anna said, surprised.

"It's a really long story. Cliff notes version, my parents just have never been there. No matter what crisis or weddings or whatever have happened in my life, they always have an excuse not to be there," Elizabeth commented, a bitter edge to her smile. Her parents had literally been nonentities to her nearly half of her life, but they still managed to her hurt even after all this time. The voice mail had been like a punch to her heart, unexpected and harsh. "What kind of mission is more important than your grandson's funeral?"

Anna pursed her lips, and then swallowed thickly. "I imagine perhaps they are trying to spare you more pain. I don't know the specifics of why they stayed out of her your life, but I know my own experience with reuniting with Robin after so many years not being a part of her life. No matter how much I justified my job, there was always guilt," she replied, thoughtfully. She was completely open and honest about her past, not hiding behind any lofty pretenses and just giving Elizabeth a different perspective on a similar situation. "That guilt played a big part in why I kept putting off seeing Robin. I didn't feel I had the right to swoop in after so long, and just make a place in her life. Your parents might feel the same way. They don't feel they have a rightful place in your life anymore, and maybe they even feel underserving of it. So they stay away because they think that will cause less harm, then trying to come to you now when your life is an upheaval."

"I don't know. Maybe," Elizabeth sighed, heavily. It was hard to think objectively when it came to her parents. She had gone to therapy for her abandonment issues and more when she was teenager yet she still struggled with them to this very day. She knew that Doctors Without Borders did incredible things, but there would have been times in her life that it would have been nice to have a mother or father to go to—to speak about her troubles, and get some much needed guidance instead of struggling to work it out on her own. "But I don't think you are here to speak about my family drama, now are you?"

Anna nodded, with a deep frown. "No, I'm not. It's about the case and the matter of Jake's body being released."

A little piece of Elizabeth soul died with that sentence.

Jake's body.

 _Body._ It was so informal, so cold to refer to what used to be a living person as a body, even as a nurse she cringed at the term. Hearing in reference to her baby, it gutted her and it took her a moment to speak. "That's…that's supposed to be soon right? Any day, right?" She asked, her voice a little too pitched to be normal. Her fingernails dug grooves into the palms of her hands, and she stared unblinkingly at Anna's face.

"That was the original plan, yes," Anna stated, slowly.

Elizabeth felt her pulse thump in her jaw. "Original plan?"

Anna gave her an apologetic look. "There has been some evidence that has come to light that has raised a few questions, specifically about Jake's injuries from the car accident to his time spent at the hospital before he was taking off life support," she explained, in a gentle and mild tone of voice as if not to prod the hurt that Elizabeth was currently experiencing too deeply. "While we are investigating who hit Jake that night, the DA also wants to bring Lucky Spencer on charges as well as whomever at the hospital allowed him to make the choice to take Jake off of life-support. The medical examiner wishes access to Jake's medical files, in order to help the DA determine which charges to file."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, a tad of overwhelmed.

"If the medical examiner can find evidence that Jake was not brain dead as the secondary tests were meant to determine and that his condition was not irreversible as believed, then the DA wants to file murder charges against Lucky," Anna stated, reaching out to squeeze her hand in a consoling way. "If not, Lucky will still be arrested, but it will be a lesser charges. The medical examiner, Britt Westbourne, has requested more time to go over everything and I'm inclined to give it to her, but I wanted to inform you of that before I made the decision."

Elizabeth was torn. All she wanted was the nightmare to be over, and to put her son to rest and give Cameron some much needed solace. She couldn't deny though that she wanted answers to so many questions that plagued her about that night, but was it worth putting off her and Cameron's peace of mind to get them? Also could she just turn down getting a little bit of justice for Jake? She never believed that Lucky would be charged. The Spencer name went a long way in this town, so she hadn't even thought about the possibility. "I-I understand. It…it's difficult because I just want to get that closure that a funeral is supposed to bring, even though I know in my heart that it's just a temporary band-aid at best. But I don't think I can live with myself if I don't understand how everything went so wrong that night and who was responsible for it," she whispered out, reaching up to wipe the tears that started to fall. She sniffled, and cleared her throat. "As for Lucky, I never imagined myself as a vengeful person, but the thought of him getting away with what he did? Pulling the plug on Jakey like that, taking that choice away from when didn't have any right to do so? That was so cold and evil and I want him to pay for that." A troubled look flashed through her eyes, and she looked hesitantly at Anna. "Is it wrong of me for thinking that?"

"I don't think it's wrong to be angry at a person who helped contributed to the tragedy that took your son from you. What Lucky did was reprehensible, and not only was it morally wrong it was also quite illegal," Anna told her, the British cadence to her voice very soothing for some reason that Elizabeth couldn't explain. "We talked to length to the nurse and doctor who were the ones that shut down Jake's life support, and neither of them appeared aware that you hadn't been the one to make that call. We aren't sure where the discrepancy occurred just yet, but I intend to send a couple of officers to interview everyone that was working in that area of the hospital that night."

"I, uh, I filed paperwork to have the hospital to do an internal investigation, but Monica hasn't said anything about it," Elizabeth divulged, brushing her hair out of her face.

"The hospital was doing an investigation?" Anna looked surprised.

"They were supposed to."

"Hmm. Well, I will look into that. See what the holdup is or why they haven't started an investigation. I apologize again for coming over so late, and bothering you with this at this hour, but I wanted to speak to you as soon as possible," Anna smiled, a hint of uncharacteristic sheepish crossed the older woman's face. "But I shall not keep you a moment longer."

"It's no problem," Elizabeth shook her head. "I am grateful that you came to update me about this in person. It is a hard situation all the way around, but I feel better knowing that you are working on this and not…"

"Slipping it under the rug like many old cases the PCPD handled before? Don't look bashful, I am well aware of the police departments record. Too many men vying to take down the 'alleged' mob Sonny Corinthos that other cases have gone neglected, and people who sorely need justice are being let down," Anna remarked, off handedly. "It is something that I endeavor to change now that I am in charge of the force. But there is…there is one last thing, I would like to say before I go?"

"Yes?"

"I know I can't tell you how to handle your grief, but please don't let your anger consume you," Anna pleaded, softly. "You've been such a pillar of strength for Robin when her HIV started to get worse, and you've been there for Emma and Patrick, I just wanted you to know that if you ever feel like you are losing to your grief that there are people here for you."

Elizabeth stared at the older woman, her heart painfully tight in her chest. "I appreciate everything you have done so far, handling Jake's case and not giving up on finding who hurt my baby—who killed him," she amended, her eyes falling shut and she ran her fingers through her hair anxiously. She opened up her blue eyes that swam with tears. Her jaw trembled with a shaky breath, and she shook her head slightly. "But I can't promise anyone that. I think of nothing else than my anger and my grief. Maybe one day I will be free of it," she told him, her eyes swam with tears and her jaw trembled with a shaky breath. "But for now, it is the only thing that keeps me going forward. And I have to keep going forward."

Anna gave a shallow nod. "I understand. Just please keep something in mind, for me, alright?"

"Alright," Elizabeth agreed, quietly.

"Vengeance is…ugly. It's an ugly choice, sometimes a necessary one, but it comes with a hefty price. To seek vengeance, you have to give up a part of yourself and it's a piece that you'll never be able to get back. You have be prepared for that," Anna explained, her expression soft yet serious. Her brown eyes were a well of sympathy and she stood up off of the couch, slipping her jacket back on. "I don't want to see you have to make that choice. I don't think anyone wants to see you have to, but I'm not going to make feel wrong for wanting revenge and justice against those that took your son's life. When Olivia Jerome caused me to have a miscarriage, I did things that I wasn't very proud of. So I'm not going to be a hypocrite and tell you not to do what I did. All I can say is that I hope that you are never in position to have to make such a choice."

Elizabeth couldn't find it in her to tell Anna that she felt well beyond the point of bent to being almost completely broken. "If it's any consolation, I hope that I never have to make that choose, either," she said, her tone muted and hollow. She couldn't imagine herself trying to get revenge or taking the law into her own hands, it just seemed so abstract from the person that she was. And yet, in those quite moments when the anger seemed to run down the back of her throat as thick as molasses and burned with the intensity of lava, Elizabeth feared just what she could be capable of.

* * *

 _Siwa Oasis_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _48 BCE_

The sun had risen over Siwa, signaling the dawn of a new day.

Bayek had just finished putting on his new and fixed armor, looking over it with approval shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Benipe," he told the blacksmith, with a smile. "You did better crafting than I would have done myself. I knew my decision to come to instead was the right one."

"I'm glad my work receives high praise," Benipe smiled, pleased. "It is good to be able to work and create once more. I had almost forgotten the joy that I find in it, and now I will be able to help the villagers with their needs. A blacksmith without his tools and a forge has little purpose, and you have brought mine back to me. I am forever in your debt, my friend."

"Think nothing of it, Benipe," Bayek shook his head. "Just help the people as best as you can, and keep your head down to avoid the soldier's ire. Pray to Amun that soon their influence will be lifted from these lands."

"I pray for nothing more."

Bayek made his way through the village, past the Greek soldiers and towards the house that Rabiah dwelt in. Senu circled happily over, and swooped down to land on the railing on the porch where Rabiah sat. The old healer chuckled, merrily and got up from her seat to stroke the eagle's feathers. "I see that you've finally come to grace an old woman with your presence, Bayek," Rabiah greeted him, as he walked up the stairs. "Oh, how it does my heart good to see you back in Siwa."

"I wanted to come and thank you for not only taking care of me, but for nursing Senu back to health," Bayek said, gratefully. "I never expected to see her again."

"She is a tough old bird."

"Much like you, eh?" Bayek grinned.

Rabiah laughed, her entire body tremble from it. She placed a hand on his arm and patted it gently. "Oh, Bayek, you always knew how to make me laugh," the old woman stated, after taking a moment to catch her breath.

Bayek smiled, though it slowly slipped off his face until he looked grim and serious. "Hepzefa tells me you are healing the villagers," Bayek stated, quietly. "It would do me much pleasure to help you."

"That is kind of you. May your ka be blessed. I can always use help. The soldiers are brutes," Rabiah sighed, reclaiming her seat to rest her weary bones. Bayek knelt down beside her, and her dark eyes turned to him with a miserable look in them. "Almost every villager has cuts, bruises, or broken bones. I take of them at the old temple, and firneds bring me medicine, but the soldiers stop everyone from entering the village. They steal their goods, and supplies. We had to turn to smuggling by boats to treat and help our own people. But…"

"The soldiers stopped that as well," Bayek guessed.

Rabiah nodded. "Yes. They sank the last shipment. The medicine jars are scattered across the bottom of the lake. If any did not break, they could be salvaged. The wax seal should keep the medicine from being tainted for a time."

"I will search for them, Rabiah and bring back to you what I can," Bayek promised, his tone calm yet firm.

"Thank you, Bayek," Rabiah whispered out. Her eyes went glossy with a sheen of tears. "The villagers and I would be most grateful for your efforts. The ship sank near the oracle offering. Bring what you find to the old temple. I must go there now, and tend to the sick and wounded as best as I can."

"I will make haste," Bayek told her. He parted ways with Rabiah down the road, turning right towards the great lake from which much of the water and fish that Siwa survived off of came from. Senu circled lazily overhead, the sound of the thump of her wings his constant companion and he reached the edge of the old Lysandros Oracle Offering that had sunk long ago into the water's depths. Three broken pillars stuck out of the water, and the crumbling structure of the top of stairs barely peeked out from where the waves met the shoreline. He took of his weapons, setting them on the shore as so not to weigh him down. The waters were serene and calm above the surface, but it could be a torrent below. Even the best sailors could be caught in the undertow, and drown in the blink of an eye.

He entered the waters, warmed by the sun's ray but the further he sank into the depths, the colder the water became. The sand shifted underneath his feet, making him work to steady himself every second and when he was deep enough, he swam out further before drawing a deep breath and diving below the surface of the water. Being underneath water was a surreal experience. The world above muted and far away, his sight blurred by the moving water and the weightless sensation, the closest thing that he would ever experience to flight. His eyes scanned the ruins, the ancient pottery that was broken and covered in coral and algae. The small pedestal where offerings were made, cracked through the center abandoned by the gods as it had been by the people. Little treasure were scattered across the lake bottom, but it was not ancient treasure he sought.

His eyes looked for bit of wreckage and ruin that were new. That had not been taken over by time and nature, and it wasn't until he swam about seven feet from the oracle offering that he discovered pieces of a boat. He ran his fingers across the wood. It was slightly slimy with the telltale sign of algae beginning to grow, but there was no visible sign of it. This had to be the boat that Rabiah's shipment was one. Bayek kicked his feet, pushing himself towards the surface and when his broke above the water, he drew in a deep and much needed breath.

Relaxing his tense muscles, Bayek sucked in a hard breath and dove underneath the water once more. He swam pushing himself towards the bottom as fast as his limbs would take him, and his body cut through the water like blade. Two jars were broken beyond any use, but three of them were salvageable. Cradling the three jars of medicine in his arm, Bayek swam back to the surface. He had hoped there had been more, but this was better than none and would help the villagers. He made it to the shore when he heard the thunderous sound of footsteps.

He ducked down, using a pillar to obscure him from view. His eyes were narrowed as he watched two soldiers appear through the reeds, and cursed softly underneath his breath.

"What fool would come down here searching for sunken contraband?" One soldier huffed, with clear annoyance in his voice.

Bayek set the medicine jars down in the sand, and watched them pass him by. One soldier went waist deep in the water, with a sword drawn and eyes searching the quiet waters. The other stood on the shore, carefully to guard the other soldier's back. Taking a deep breath, Bayek soundlessly approached the soldier from behind. He nicked his bow off of the ground, and lunged forward. He lifted to his full height and brought the bow over the soldier's head, then pulled it back. The riser was pressed tight against the soldier's esophagus, cutting off his shout of alarm and Bayek used all his strength to pull back. The soldier fought and thrash, and Bayek grunted when an elbow sunk into his stomach but he held steady. After several heartbeats, the soldier's breaths became shallower and then finally he slumped as if the life had been stripped from him.

Bayek dropped the body to the ground. The other soldier turned around, and his eyes locked with Bayek. A shout let his lips and Bayek dodged the arrow sent his way with a swift lunge to the left. He scrambled across the ground, and pulled the arrow out of his quiver. He notched it and pulled the bowstring back, the wooden bow creaking ever so slightly and then he released the arrow. It soared through the air with a sharp whistle before it pierced the soldier's side.

"You little shit!" The Greek soldier hissed, holding his bleeding side. He stumbled back into the water's edge, and bumped into the dead body of the other soldier. "I'll make you pay for that."

Bayek stared at him, his golden eyes burning with rage when he noticed something rise up out of the water behind the soldier. His lips parted with surprise, for the beast that attacked the soldier without preamble was not one often from in the lake. The crocodile's powerful jaws snapped around the soldiers leg, and he shrill shriek of terror echoed loudly. He slashed and hacked at the crocodile the best he could, but the behemoth pulled him deeper into the water. The crocodile released the man's leg, and the Greek tried to swim to shore, but crocodiles were swift beasts in the water. It lunged at him, and it's mouth clamped around the soldier's head. Bayek winced back, looking away from the horror. The man's screamed were silenced with a sickening crunch, and the water ran red with blood.

Bayek swallowed, gathering his supplies. He did not know what brought this beast here, perhaps the gods were looking out for him, but that did not mean he would linger. Even the gods' generosity only stretched so far. It was high noon by the time he reached the old temple, the medicine jars clinking against each other in the sack around his waist. He passed the villagers all huddled along the path towards the temple ruins, and paused in surprise when he saw Rabiah there tending to a man holding his side and moaning in pain.

"Rabiah?" He called out to her.

Rabiah turned, with stark relief on her face. "Ah, Bayek," she said, her voice shaken. "Amun be praised."

Bayek walked up to her, and frowned when he noticed the bruise and scrap on the side of her cheek. "What has happened? Who did this to you? Why aren't the people in the temple ruins?" He questioned, visibly upset.

"The soldiers threw us out, even though I paid the nomarch to allow me to use the temple. Every few weeks soldiers come to take our medicine and food stocks. It is always the same soldiers. They call it a tribute," Rabiah spat out, bitterly. "A tax for the Pharaoh's Royal Army. We barely have what's needed to take care of the poor souls that needed our help."

"The vultures," Bayek's upper lip curled in a snarl. "Don't worry Rabiah, I will make certain they don't bother you anymore."

"Be careful, Bayek," she whispered.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, moving past her and the villagers towards the old temple. His golden eyes flickered across the guard that stood at the entrance, and knew that it would not be smart to make a front charge. With numbers against him, Bayek knew that he would have to thin their ranks before he stood a chance. Senu gave him a bird's eye view of the old temple. The walls of the temple had not all stood the test of time, and there was enough of a gap that he was able to slip through. The tall dry grass tickled his skin, and shifted in golden waves with the wind as he eyed the nearby soldier warily. He drew in a deep breath, then struck as swift as a cobra. He snatched the soldier backward, and slammed his head against the nearby stone wall. It hit with a sickening crack, and Bayek pulled the unconscious body back into the tall grass, hiding it from plain view.

Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, Bayek darted forward and braced his back against the hot stone. The stone older than time seemed to give him much needed strength and he drew his sword from his sheath, his palm wrapped tight around the hilt.

"I don't like raiding this place. Full of diseases. What if the nomarch finds out about our raids?" A soldier hissed, worriedly.

"He doesn't give a fig about this smelly bog," another scoffed, diversely. "Damn. Not much here this time."

Bayek sent a quick prayer to Amun, and then stormed through the archway, plunging his sword hilt deep into the soldier. The blade sliced through his back and came out of his abdomen, coated in a bright red blood. The soldier let out a choked noise, and Bayek ripped his blade free as the other two soldiers shouted. It was a whirlwind of violence, and swords slashed through air, glinting like sparks of fire in the blistering sunlight. His teeth gnashed together, he let out a deep bellow blocking his enemy's attack and he shoved them back across the slithering sands. A punch to his face sent him stumbling back, droplets of blood swelled up where his lip was split. He lashed out, the tipped point of his blade sliced across the soldier's throat.

The soldier gasped, clutching his throat as blood spurted out. He tore and ripped at the soldiers, allowing them to gain no advantage over him. His blood coursed through his veins like a quickening, and with a half curse and half gasp, he strained to outmaneuver the two remaining soldiers. His feet carved grooves into the sands, he slid his body around the soldier in a large arc. He plunged his sword through the back of the soldier's neck, and turned towards his last opponent. His heartbeat roared against his eardrums, when he ducked underneath the khopesh blade soared over his head and would have surely cleaved his head from his neck if it had been a second slower. He rushed forward, slamming his shoulder into the man's body and knocked him back down onto the ground. He jammed his sword without mercy through the man's skull, and pulled it free with a tired grunt. He wiped the sweat down from his upper lip and swallowed thickly, his throat dry and cracking with pain. His skull throbbed and ached, feeling heavy with his thoughts and exhaustion that burned deep in the depths of his soul.

Bayek shook his head, and cleaned his sword off of the edge of his clothing before he slid it back on the sheath around his waist. He ran a hand across his tangled and twisted hair before his shoulder rose and fell with a great breath. He walked towards the entrance of the temple, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew he had to end this madness and the only way to do so was the kill the Ibis. He saw Rabiah who was worriedly pacing amongst the anxious villagers, and when she saw him, stark relief crossed her features.

"Bayek, you are alright," Rabiah said, a slight tremble to her hands that gave away the quiet fears she had when he entered the temple.

"I am well, Rabiah, this I swear." He reassured her, gently. "The temple is yours now. Those soldiers won't bother you again."

"All my patients thank you," Rabiah smiled.

Bayek nodded, with a small smile curling at the edges of his lips. He made to walk past her when he recalled the medicines. "Ah, I almost forgot to give you your medicine form the sunken boat," he stated, untying the sack from his waist and holding it out towards the healer.

"Ha, ha, in all of the excitement, I forgot about them myself," Rabiah chuckled, clapping her hands in delight. She graciously accepted the bag, and looked up at him with bright eyes. "Thank you, Bayek. It is good to know that we out here in Siwa have not been completely forgotten, and left on our own."

"I wish I could have found more," Bayek told her, with a twinge of regret. "And I will always be here for Siwa, Rabiah. No matter how far my travels will take me, I will always come back to defend my home and its people."

"This little bit could save lives that would have been lost without it, Bayek. You gave us more than we had hoped for."

"The oasis of Siwa is lucky to have you, Rabiah," Bayek stated, earnestly. "I pray the Gods will watch of you and your endeavors."

Rabiah watched him turn his back and start to walk away, the sack of medicine clutched between her gnarled and wrinkled fingers. Concern blossomed in her dark eyes, and she called out to him, "Promise me you will not become consumed with your vengeance, Bayek."

Bayek went still, his shoulders taut and his head bent forward. He had not expected the impact of her words, but felt them hit his heart with a surprising accuracy. He wished that he could promise such a thing, but vengeance had deep roots in his soul. He could not let it go, not with the way things still were. "I think of nothing else," he whispered out, his features twisted with resigned sorrow. "By the grace of Amun, one day I will be free of it."

And then he walked away.

* * *

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _The Park_

Everyday things were difficult. Simple things that were tainted by sorrow, making it difficult to wake up each and every day to monotone beat her life had narrowed down into. Still Elizabeth knew she had try, she couldn't stay stuck here where grief and pain were on the verge of swallowing her whole. Elizabeth watched Cameron swing by himself, feeling her heart ripple with pain to see him trying to play at being happy. She had decided that they both needed a day out of the house to get away from the memories and worries only for a moment, and he had asked to go to the park. Now, she wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Every second she expected to see Jake rush up to Cameron and drag him off to the monkey bars to climb them. She knew that her son had to feel that, too, and she was ready to get up off the bench and suggest leaving when she was approached by Jasper "Jax" Jacks and his step son, Morgan. "Hi, Jax. Hi, Morgan," she greeted them, putting on a smile. "How are you two today?"

"Just out for a bit of walk," Jax replied, with a faint smile. "Morgan loves the park, so I thought I would bring him here for a bit since it was such a lovely day."

"It is a lovely day," Elizabeth nodded, in agreement.

"Miss Webber?" Morgan asked, hesitantly. "Is…is it alright if I go play with Cameron?"

Elizabeth's heart softened. Morgan was such a good kid. Jasper was a good step-father and took the kid underneath his wing, making up for the ways that Carly often neglected her second son. It wasn't that Carly didn't love Morgan. While she didn't like Carly, she could tell the blond loved her kids' fiercely. It came down the fact that Carly would see Michael as her connection to Jason. Jason was Michael's uncle biologically, but once Jason had been prepared to raise him as his own. Carly had gone into depression, and for a year, Jason raised Michael. Then Carly decided to storm back into town, accuse Jason of kidnap and marry her son's bio-father, AJ Quartermain. Ever since that baby was born Carly had used him to manipulate Jason, and honestly, Elizabeth believed that Carly didn't realize what she was doing half the time. That her behavior was so engrained now, she couldn't see how she treated Michael as compared to Morgan.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," Elizabeth smiled, with a gentle smile. "I think he would really love that."

Morgan gave her a bright smile before he rushed off, and Elizabeth could see the way Cameron perked up at the sight of his friend. Jax sat down beside her and leaned back against the bench. "How are you holding up?" Jax asked, his brows furrowed together and concern shining in his eyes.

"As best as I can," Elizabeth replied, with a shrug. "It doesn't feel real, and then in the same moment, it is so crushing real that I can't breathe."

"If there is anything you ever need, I would have you know that I am your friend. I know that we haven't been close, but we did…did once believe we were going to raise a child together," Jax commented, choosing his words carefully. He was referencing to a time six years ago when him and his then-wife, Courtney, had come to Elizabeth to be a surrogate since Courtney couldn't carry a pregnancy to full term without great risk to her health. Elizabeth decided to do it because her and Lucky had been struggling financially when he had hurt his back badly on the job, and the debt was piling up quickly. It had seemed like a perfect plan, until it was found out that Courtney's eggs weren't viable.

The arrangement changed to Elizabeth not only carrying the child, but that her eggs would be the one being used, meaning she would be the biological mother to the child. Courtney had a rough history with Elizabeth so she felt insecure about the surrogacy, and eventually had an affair with Nicolas. When he discovered it, Jax divorced Courtney and then came to Elizabeth with the offer of co-parenting the child. It was going to be a little girl, but she had miscarried when Carly—who had a mental breakdown—ran out in front of her car and caused her to crash. Jax had a memorial made and together they had planted a tree in this park that she still visited on the anniversary of that date. "And my daughter, Jocelyn wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Jake. I know that I had another donor lined up, and I'm not condoning Lucky's actions, but I can't ignore the fact that Jake is the reason my little girl is healthy and alive."

Elizabeth understood what he meant, and nodded her head, shakily. "I think he would have liked that, you know? To be someone's hero? I just wish things had played out differently. I wish that he had never gotten hit, I wish Lucky hadn't made that decision, I wish for so much to be different. It sounds selfish because your daughter was sick and I just wish my son hadn't been—" She blew out a deep breath, and wiped her watery eyes. "I am glad that Jocelyn is alright. I am glad that if one thing came out of this mess that it was that. I had started to prepare myself to donate…donate Jake's organs, but I just needed another set of tests. Another set of tests to tell me if my baby was really gone, and—"

"Lucky took that from you," Jax inclined his head, sorrow crinkling the edge of his eyes.

Elizabeth swallowed, her lips pressed harshly together. She watched Cameron and Morgan rush over to the teeter totter, their laughter a balm to the open wound on her heart. "How is Jocelyn doing? I know that she is still in the hospital recovering from the surgery, but not much beyond that," she spoke, fighting to keep her tone even and composed.

"She is doing well. The doctors are very optimistic about a full recovery," Jax informed her, folding his hands into his lap. "She'll get to come home in about a week."

"That's good," Elizabeth nodded, a hint of a smile curled on the edge of her lips. "I'm glad that she is doing better. I know how worried you and Carly had been ever since she had been diagnosed with the cancer."

"Thank you," he accepted, with a sad sort of smile.

Several moments ticked by, while the two of them just watched their children play in the park without a care in the world. Elizabeth felt the knot in the back of her throat loosen, and each breath start to become easier with each passing second. Her mind emptied of all thoughts, and gave her a few seconds of solace before something occurred to her. A line appeared along her brow, her blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully and she turned towards Jax. "Jax, you are still part of the Hospital Board, yes?" She asked, slowly.

"I am," Jax nodded.

Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip.

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

"You know that Anna is investigating what happened to Jake?" Upon his nod of confirmation, she continued, "She wants to investigate what happened at the hospital, too. I know that the hospital launched an investigation, or were supposed to. I just fear that the Hospital Board is going to give her trouble. I know how these things work. The hospital will try to protect its reputation before anything else—"

"Want me to strong arm them into complying with Anna and the police department," Jax surmised, with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yes. I know that's a lot to ask, but I need to know who let Lucky authorize taking Jake off of life support. I've…I've tried to question Monica about it once before but she isn't quite happy with me right now, and I would really just like some answers," Elizabeth explained, in a hurried tone. She was worried she was asking too much of her friend or putting him in a difficult position.

"I'll bring it up at the next meeting," Jax agreed, easily. "It's schedule in a couple of days."

Elizabeth nodded, absentmindedly. "Thank you. I hate you to drag you into this—"

"Think nothing of it. If someone made such a critical error like they did that night, it means they could do so agree. That on top of the black market organ ring that has been tied to GH, the Hospital Board needs to crack down on these matters anyways," he replied, brushing off her concerns. "If it can provide you with some answers then all the better for it."

It wasn't much, but a tiny weight lifted off of her. "Thank you," she repeated, gratefully. "I don't know if I will ever be able to tell you how much I appreciate this, but thank you."

"Thank me if I can find you some answers."

The two chattered amicably for a few minutes when a figure on the other side of the park made Elizabeth go motionless like a statue, and her heart to hammer wildly in her chest. Her eyes clashed with that icy blue that always stole her breath away, and half of her imagined she was just seeing things. That was Jason wasn't really there in the flesh, but after several hard blinks, she came to the realization that her eyes were not playing tricks on her in this moment.

" _Don't ask me how I am feeling if you don't want to know."_

 _Jason looked down, his features twisted with sorrow. "I'm sorry."_

" _Then why are you leaving?" Elizabeth asked, her voice strangled. "I mean, yesterday you were laughing. We were out on your bike. What changed?"_

" _Nothing. Nothing's going to change unless I go. There are people that I care about who are hurting every day because of me," Jason whispered out, his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap._

" _These people…" Elizabeth said, softly. Her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "Am I one of them?"_

 _Jason raised his gaze and looked her straight in the eyes, his gaze so intense that it stole her breath away and there was so much in his eyes that he left unspoken. So much she didn't understand in that moment, and yet she was still ripped apart inside by his answers. "Yes," his voice barely audible, as if he said it any louder that he would surely break._

"Go talk to him," Jax encouraged, breaking her from her memories. "I'll watch Cameron."

Elizabeth glanced over at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Jax nodded.

"Thank you."

Elizabeth rose off the bench, and her eyes tracked Cameron for a moment to reassure herself that her son was happy and well. He was playing hopscotch with Morgan, both of the giggling when they messed up and had to start over. Taking in a deep breath, Elizabeth walked towards Jason. He did not move to leave, or shrink away from her approach which made the anxiousness inside of her quell just a hair. "Hello," she said, on a breathless tone when she reached his side.

Sometimes, she questioned her love for this man. Not that she regretted ever coming to love him, or acknowledging that he would always be a part of her heart no matter where the future took her. It was just that sometime the part of her that grew tired, the part of her that didn't want to hurt until the day she died, wished she could fully let go of what she felt for him. Get a clean break instead of holding all the broken dreams in her hands like shards of broken glass. Other days, she hated ever thinking such thoughts.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Jason whispered back. He looked so weathered, so worn down as if the wind could knock him over, and that was terrifying because he had always seemed so indestructible in her eyes. "How…how are you doing?"

"Better now that I'm out of the hospital," Elizabeth replied, sliding her hands into her coat pockets to hide the way her fingers fidgeted nervously. "I hear I have you to thank for getting me help in the first place."

"You don't have to thank for me for that," Jason shook his head.

"I do actually," Elizabeth chuckled, but the sound was sad. "If you hadn't found me, then I could have ended up much worse off than I had been."

"You are strong, Elizabeth," Jason said, looking down for a fraction of a second before his eyes lifted to meet back with hers. He almost seemed nervous, standing before her right now. A hesitance to his ever action as if he were afraid that he would over step an invisible boundary between them. "You can get through anything."

Elizabeth let out a light scoff. "I used to think that, too," she told him, her shoulders drew upward with a deep breath and then fell when she let it out in a rush. "Now I'm not so sure. I feel…easier to bruise, and each time I get knocked down, it's harder to pick myself back up again. But that isn't why I came to talk to you," she shook her head, not wanting his pity and not wanting him to feel obligated to try and make her feel better. "I wanted you to know that as soon as…the hospital releases Jake's body, I have the funeral prepared. You…you can come, if you want. I know that I didn't really let you have a life with Jake, but you are still his father. You have a right to be there."

The apple of his throat bobbed, sharply. "You didn't…you didn't take Jake away from me, Elizabeth. We made a decision to give Jake the best life that we could, and I couldn't do that with the choices I've made. I always knew he would be better off without me," Jason commented, his voice hoarse with emotion that he fought to keep on a leash. He always tried to be in control, tried to not let his emotions show and it broke Elizabeth's heart every time.

"I never believed that was true," Elizabeth said, her chin quivering. "I still don't believe it's true. You would have been a wonderful father. Your heart is a good one, even if your job...a little unconventional."

Jason closed his eyes, her words seeming to harm and heal him in the same instant. Her fingers itched to take his hands into hers, to clasp them tight and give him some measure of comfort and reassurance, but knew that it was impossible. It wasn't her place to give him that, and it was horrible, this feeling of being a practical stranger to the person who held her heart.

" _You smell like snow," he whispered, as she leaned over him bandaging up his bullet wound. There was a far off glazed look in his eyes, but he struggled to focus on her like she was only lifeline keeping him afloat._

" _Snow doesn't smell," she corrected, lightly._

" _Yes, it does. It smells like you."_

"Do you think if I had chosen differently, that our lives would be very different than they are right now? If I had chosen you, instead my obligation to Lucky? If I hadn't walked out of the penthouse all those years ago and we talked about what was wrong instead of ignoring it? If I hadn't been so hard headed and let you take care of us when I was pregnant with Jake instead of being so determined not to use you like some many other people did?" Elizabeth asked, softly. She didn't know why she had felt compelled to ask that. Perhaps, it was the empty aching hole inside of her where all the missed chances and mistakes had gathered, the ones that always haunted her when she was near him. That made her realize if she had just taken a stand and had fought a little harder to be with the man she had loved, then maybe things wouldn't have been so broke.

" _With everything I have done, do I deserve to be happy? I just wish we had made it to Italy."_

" _You know, you made it easier for me to brave."_

" _You really matter to me. We're clear on that, right?"_

" _You can count on me."_

" _I just wish I could see you happy again."_

" _Do you ever think about it?"_

" _All the time."_

" _A life with you and the boys, it's all I ever wanted."_

Fragments of her history with Jason cropped up in her mind, and it was a long history that was tangled up with so much love and pain. It was back nearly ten years ago when the misunderstandings had started the push and pull dance between them. She and Jason in 2002 had moved in together, trying to make a relationship work. Fate had other places when it forced Sonny Corinthos, Jason's boss, to fake his death. This caused Jason to be gone for days on end, and he could offer Elizabeth no explanation because he was sworn to secrecy about the mob business. He avoided her so he wouldn't have to lie, knowing that she hated when people did that to her. Elizabeth had been swallowed up by depression, feeling like he didn't care and that she didn't matter. When the truth had been revealed by Carly of all people and given the blonde's dislike for Elizabeth, it had left her feeling humiliated and broken. She had packed up her things and walked out on Jason. Two weeks later, Jason was having an affair with Courtney, his brother's wife and validated every fear Elizabeth had. (It wasn't until years later that Jason confided that he threw himself headfirst into a disastrous relationship in order to out run the pain that Elizabeth had left in his heart.) So many misunderstanding and people came between them like always; just a few months after moving into Jason's penthouse, she had packed up and walked away. In seemed that every time they grew close, that one of them would inevitably walk away for some reason or another. A never ending cycle of insanity and heartbreak that left them more jaded after every time they embarked on it once again.

"I believe it would be," Jason's eyes filled with such pain and longing. He had a knuckle white grip on the side of the table, and averted his gaze away from her as if he looked too long then he would lose himself. "But we can't live life like that. We can't let ourselves think about the what ifs because…" He trailed off, the apple of his throat bobbed with one shallow motion. "Because if we do, then we'll drown in it and we know what happens when we drown."

Elizabeth knew what he meant. The last time they had a conversation like this was the night that their lives had aligned just right, and they had made love, ending up conceiving Jake that hot August night back in 2006. After that, it had been difficult to hide away those feelings that had always been there. She had tried to ignore them, and work on being a mother to Cameron and her new baby on the way. Jason tried to ignore them by giving Sam another shot, but in the end, they had come together time and time again. They had tried to make it work after that. Brief stolen moments where they could be together and dream of a life where they could be happy, but it made the pain that was to come all that much worse.

It came crashing down when Jason's enemies kidnapped Jake—the second time he had been kidnapped and he hadn't even been a year old. Jason (and surprisingly Sam) had saved him, like he had when Maureen had taken him, but it had broken the fragile illusion of their happiness. Jason felt like he was going to get them killed, and so he broke off their engagement just forty-six hours after proposing to her. It had been hard to pick herself up after that, even nearly three years later it still choked her. There had been no others in her life after Jason, she couldn't take put her heart out there and waiting with baited breath for it to be stomped on once again. So she had turned her focus on to her job at General Hospital, and her children, giving them everything that she was.

"I know we shouldn't," Elizabeth admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But sometimes, it's hard not to think about it."

Jason swallowed, a furrow appearing along his brow. "I know how difficult it is," he whispered out, running a hand down his face.

Elizabeth's blue eyes flickered towards him, a despondent look in her eyes. "Do you?" She asked, softly.

"I feel it every day," he replied, earnestly. "A life with you and our boys is all I have ever wanted. It's hard to see you and convince myself that it is better to stay away, and keep you all safe from the dark parts in my life. I wish constantly that it didn't have to be this way."

Elizabeth choked back the sob that welled up inside of her, and looked away from his eyes because they were too bright, too filled with love that called out to her heart. And that was a heartache that she wouldn't—couldn't give into again. "Good-bye, Jason," she whispered out.

"No," Jason said, a wounded look in his eyes. "It's see you later."

Elizabeth's teeth sank into her lower lip, and she turned away from him, feeling shaky and weak. She felt like the last leaf on an autumn tree, and one good wind would tear her away from the limb that kept her so carefully anchored in place.

"Elizabeth," Jason called out.

Elizabeth froze, turning around towards him. "Yes?"

"When I found you on the bridge," Jason said, taking a step forward and then pulled back at the last moment. "When I found you on the bridge, you called me something. You were delirious and out of it, but—"

"I called you something?" Elizabeth asked, confused. "Like what?"

"Aya," Jason frowned. "You called me 'Aya'."

Elizabeth felt a jolt of surprise rush through her at the name of Bayek's wife. "I called you Aya?" She whispered out, bemused. She didn't understand why she would call Jason the name of a woman from her weird delusional dreams. It just didn't seem to make sense, but she wasn't in her right state of mind with the seizure. Who knows what was going through her head at that moment, and she shook her head side to side. "I don't know why I called you that, Jason. I must have been…just so out of it that I wasn't thinking straight. I doubt it really meant anything. Why did you feel the need to bring it up?"

Jason squinted, racking his brain for that answer. His mouth opened and closed, his brows drawn together into a tight knot. "I don't know," he answered, his tone hesitant and slightly frustrated. "It's just…the name felt familiar. Like I heard it somewhere before is all."

Elizabeth stared at him, and for one fleeting second, she could have sworn she saw Aya's features flicker across the planes of his face. Her eyes blinked rapidly to dispel the image, and she swallowed down the bubbling emotions inside of her chest. "See you later, Jason," she said, softly. She turned around, feeling his eyes on her the entire time and desperately trying to fight the emotions that Jason always stirred up inside of her when she was around. By the time she reached the bench and sat back down, Jason had vanished seemingly into thin air.

* * *

 _Siwa Oasis_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _48 BCE_

The Temple of Amun stood tall and imposing as the day that Greeks built in order to honor the Egyptian God of the Sun, Amon-Ra. The Temple sat upon a great hill, towering over the valley below and stood as a silent observer of the Siwa far off in the distance. Bayek stood, cloaked in shadows of night watching the many soldiers move about the walls above. The hints of torch light flickering in the distance as a wind began to rise from the south, and his golden eyes turned out to the desert. The wind grew in intensity and it would surely raise the sands with it. The sandstorm would be the cover he needed to infiltrate the Temple, and there he would face the Ibis and take his revenge.

Gods help any fools who would dare stand in his way.

* * *

 **END OF CHAPTER! :D**

Things are about to get intense for both Bayek and Elizabeth in the upcoming chapters! :D

Anna and Elizabeth's scene is based on the dialogue from 3/27/2012 where Elizabeth consoled Anna over Robin's "death", so there is a bit of a reversal in the roles and text at moments, and others that I've edited to fit the subplot of the story.

Khopesh—a blade found in Nablus, dating back to 18th century BC. The blade is decorated with electrum inlays. Knopesh is an Egyptian sickle sword that evolved from battle axes. A typical blade is 50-60 cm (20-24 inches) in length, though smaller forms of the blade do exist.

"A life with you and the boys, it's all I ever wanted." –I know Jason has said this about Elizabeth and the boys, but I'm not sure that he ever said that to Elizabeth's face, but for the sake of this fic, he did.

Read and Review! Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, c8499145, kcke2pen, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, vonnicus36, aphass, Starbright62, jasgem, cotytto, bjq for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, Meghie03, killianariel18100, Phasesofthemoon, jasgem, for the favs!

I want to thank, trini12180, Twisted Musalih, trini12180, arcoiris0502, Guest (CandyHearts22), kcke2pen, Guest, Guest 2, babeboo1968, bjq, for the reviews!

 **Guest Review:**

Guest (CandyHearts22): Thanks! I'm so glad that you liked it! I was worried the past life thing would be missed or not clear, and I like how going back and forth between the past kind shows all the reflections and how Bayek's past is happening sort of in Liz's present. I wish Elizabeth had given Sam a slap for what she did to the kids at least back in 07 or 08. I miss how Elizabeth and Jason were always there for each other, no questions asked no matter where they were in their relationship whether as friends or lovers or even near strangers. I feel you, I could rant about the DOA friendship they are writing with Liason now. Thank you so much!

Guest: Thank you. The fact that the investigation of Jake's death was so easily investigated, and that no one looked deeper given the town they lived always bothered me. You thoughts about Monica aren't too far off. Exactly, while I could see Jason not killing Sam, I never saw him realistically taking her back as a romantic partner given his hatred for Faith and Claudia. It made absolutely no sense. I believe Jason got brain damage from the roof falling in on in Mexico, it's the only sound explanation for him taking back Sam to me. That's probably really mean to say. lol

Guest 2: Thank you! I love a strong Liz, too. I wish she would have fought back more instead just taking so much hits, and called people out for their hypocrisy. She definitely won't follow the rules, but she will struggle with what the right thing this is. And how her perception of it has changed. Jason and Liz have a lot to go through here, I have two endings set up because of the fact that Jason did a lot of damage to Liz and the boys, too in cannon GH. Carly is definitely not getting away with anything. lol

* * *

 **FIVE**

 **"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest**

 **strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."**

 **\- H.P. Lovecraft**

 _March 28, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _The Police Department_

"Ma'am," Detective Falconeri stood before his superior officer with his hands clenched into fists at his side, "I really feel that we are doing a disservice to Jake Webber's case if we ignored the evidence found. Sam McCall is a good private investigator, and I feel we can trust this."

"I don't care if Sam McCall is a PI. I don't care if she the next Sherlock Holmes of PIs or what convincing evidence she has supposedly brought you, you do not get to make the call to bring people from outside of the department in on an investigation," Anna Devane looked down at Detective Falconeri with a stern-faced expression. She had only gotten the job of Police Commissioner a few months back, but she had been determined to restore the department's reputation. Her first priority, aside from stopping criminal, was to weed out the problematic officers who had a habit of not following protocol or the rules. "There are rules, proper channels that have to be followed in order for any evidence out there to be admissible in court. If we bring tainted evidence to a prosecutor then we risk not getting justice for Jake Webber's family. I'm sorry, but I will not accept it. Until a time comes that the crime scene investigators can confirm its authenticity, we treat it as if it doesn't exist and has no bearing on the case."

"Respectively I feel that is a bad call, ma'am," Dante told her, with his jaw clenched. "We have gotten no evidence off the cars on the road that night. Not on Sam's, Carly Corinthos's, or Luke Spencer's. That mysterious black car with no license plate could be our best shot to finding what happened that night."

"Or it could be a diversion," Anna pointed out. "Sam and Elizabeth don't exactly have a very good history given both of their involvement with one Jason Morgan."

"Sam loves Jason," Dante shook his head. "She wouldn't ever hurt his son. That's why she wants to help, to get closure that Jason sorely needs."

"While Sam's rumored involvement with Jason Morgan could be why she is eager to vindicate herself in the matter of Jake Webber's death, we do not take anything here at face value, especially when it means getting proper justice for a child's senseless death," Anna commented, her dark eyes sharp and bore into Dante with an intensity that made him look away. "Your actions during this case have caused me to question whether you are too close to this matter to handle it respectively."

"I can do my job just fine," Dante countered, defensively.

"All evidence to the contrary," Anna told him, coldly. "When you have a case that isn't tied to your father or those close to him, you are one of the PCPD's finest and most valuable assets. When a case is tied to him, or Jason, or Sam, your objectivity is lacking. I like you Dante. You are a good cop, and while your loyalty to your father and his friends are commendable, they do influence your ability to work this job. I had hoped by assigning you to this case that I would be proven wrong. Until further notice you are working with Detective Dolores and follow up on the victims of the Black Market Organ Ring."

Dante looked upset, but knew there was nothing he could do. He nodded his head sharply, and walked out of the office shutting the door behind him. Anna sat there in her chair for several moments until she was certain he was long gone, and no one would be spying at her door. She opened her desk drawer, and picked up a cellphone out of it. It was an encrypted cellphone, one that couldn't be traced or hacked so easily. She dialed in a familiar number, and pressed the phone to her ear. She waited patiently until it went to voicemail, and heaved a deep sigh while pulling her glasses off of her face. "William, I think we have to tell Elizabeth about the full situation even if Jeff and Carolyn are unwilling to do so. It is clear that there is something unfolding here in Port Charles, and she is close, if not at the center of it. I'm not sure if they are involved or not, but there is no doubt that if they don't have a hand in this now, they will soon find a way to take advantage."

Anna hung up the phone with a heavy heart, and ran her finger through her hair. "Heaven preserve us," she whispered underneath her breath, even though she had never been much of a praying kind of woman.

* * *

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _Kelly's Dinner_

Sam McCall was absolutely furious after her encounter with Elizabeth at the mortuary. She admitted that she hadn't gone there on Jason's behalf, but instead felt the need to see the stricken grief on the woman's face. Needed to see her broken and devastated, knowing that her connection to Jason was severed forever or at least, that's what Sam had hoped. She had thrown Jason in Elizabeth's face, and the woman reacted in a way that was not like the meek mousy nurse that she had expected. She had her confrontations over the years with Elizabeth, but thought after Jason had left her high and dry that the nurse's spirit had been shattered. The burning anger that had blazed in Elizabeth Webber during that encounter—it made Sam nervous to say the least because if anyone had potential to ruin her life, it was that woman.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Jason had once again gone riding Elizabeth's rescue. Monica had informed on a phone call that Jason had brought Elizabeth into the ER in bad condition. Sam was certain that Elizabeth had done something to fake her seizure. It was all the damsel in distress ploy she had been using over the years to sink her claws into Jason. She couldn't let that happen again. She had worked hard to earn Jason's trust back, and while it was going slower than she anticipated, it would be worth it in the end. She would have the ring on her finger, and the last name Morgan tying her to Jason forever.

Sam straightened in her chair when Carly set across her. She wouldn't call her and Carly friends. Sam had conned her way into Port Charles by sleeping with Sonny—Carly's husband at the time—and getting pregnant. Sonny however like always went crawling back to the blond, but it worked out for Sam because that's how she ended up with Jason. Jason had become invested in her baby's life, pretending he was the father. They were going to raise the child together and be a family.

Then her baby was stillborn.

It had cracked her illusion for their happily ever after, and only a year later she had been shot by a sniper, Manny Ruiz. The bullet had pierced her through the stomach, through the uterus and now she would never have children. She would never give Jason a baby, and when Elizabeth had Jake it had made her angry beyond belief. That baby should have been hers, but now she and Elizabeth were even. Neither of them had Jason's child. "Was there something you wanted, Carly?" Sam asked, pouring creamer into her coffee. She looked over the blonde with a critical eye, and hid the hatred she felt for Carly. Carly had to be first in Jason's life, to vindicate her self-importance and make up for the fact that she lost the chance to be with Jason all those years ago. One day, Sam was determined to make that change and have Jason value her first in his life above Carly or Sonny or Elizabeth.

"You heard that Jason saved Muffin-face, right?" Carly asked, her upper lip curled in disgust. "How can one woman get herself into so much trouble to have men constantly flocking to her rescue?"

"Monica told me about," Sam replied, with a mute sigh.

"You know she is going to try to reel Jason in again which is you," Carly pointed a finger at Sam, "need to get pregnant and fast."

Sam froze, her dark eyes widening ever so slightly. "You want me to get pregnant?" She asked, in disbelief. A jolt of panic rushed through her blood because she might have exaggerated how well she and Jason's relationship had been doing to everyone. Jason worked alongside of her for a few cases, and she made sure to always be around where he was, but they hadn't become romantic. He hadn't ever said anything that crushed her hopes, but he hadn't bit any of the bait that she daggled in front of him. It was starting to give her a complex.

"Yeah. I mean, Jason has so much to offer a child. Why wouldn't you guys have a baby?" Carly asked, very serious about the whole idea.

"Look, Carly, I know you have the best intentions—" Sam started, but was cut off.

"Don't say you just gotta wait and see. If you're going to do it, do it now. It'll give Jason something to hope for," Carly told her, earnestly.

 _Or a distraction to keep him away from Elizabeth?_ Sam thought, to herself. It didn't matter what motives Carly came here with—and there were motives—but the fact was, as much as she wished to give Jason a child, it wasn't happening. "There are complications that I just don't think will make it possible," Sam replied, with a neutral expression.

"I know. I know about when you were shot, the damage made it difficult for you to carry to term. I know that, but there are procedures now that can solve that problem for you," the blond insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. She glanced around the restaurant before scooting her chair forward as if she were afraid the wrong person would overhear them. "Haven't you talked to Dr. Lee about the new procedure?"

Sam felt her vein throb at her temple. "Yes, I did," she stated, shortly. Even if the procedure would work, she would still need Jason to sleep with her to make it work. She could try to get him drunk, but Jason wasn't one to drink alcohol to the point of being inebriated. "Dr. Lee told me about a new procedure when I was last at the hospital."

"So you know all about it."

"I have given it some thought."

"Well, then you gotta do it. It's good for Jason. There's a procedure that can help you," Carly stated, as if were signed, sealed, and delivered all in a nice, neat package.

Sam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Look, I don't think it's a good idea. Jason doesn't want to bring a child into his dangerous lifestyle remember?" The brunette pointed out, taking a deep sip of her coffee.

"Jake's accident changes everything," Carly countered, with an eyebrow arched upward.

"Yeah, well, my circumstances are still the same," Sam retorted, dryly. "Our lives aren't set up to bring a child into—"

"Life's random. Anything can happen. I mean, the best you can do is love your kids and give them the life that you want to give them. Jason never got to know Jake. But he loved him with all of his heart and he's great with kids. You see him with mine. He deserves to have a chance to raise and have a child, Sam," Carly said, passionately.

"I know. I know. I don't disagree with that."

"And you guys are together, you're happy, you love each other, you're committed."

Sam felt her stomach seethe and unease prickle along her skin. Her carefully woven lies about her and Jason reunion were going to bite her soon if she did not seal the deal with Jason, one way or another. "I appreciate the thought, Carly. I really do. But, um, I'm sorry, this has to be between me and Jason."

Carly smiled. "Sometimes people need a push."

"Yeah."

"They do, to do what they want in their heart."

Sam looked down into her coffee cup. A bitter swirled on her tongue that wasn't just attributed to the strong coffee. Sometimes, Sam wondered if Elizabeth still had such a claim on Jason's heart and that is why he never reciprocated her advances. What if Jason got a push and decided that what he wanted in his heart was Elizabeth? The very thought was enough to leave her with an icy fear that went bone deep. "Listen, even if I were to consider this, Dr. Lee told that if I were to go through this procedure that my chances of being able to carry to full term would be fifty percent at best," Sam revealed, hoping to stifle Carly's mad scheme for right this moment. If she had her way, she may agree to it, but first she needed to work on Jason a little more.

"Well, if those odds aren't good enough for you, I'll carry your baby," Carly offered, with a wide smile.

Sam nearly snorted, and started to laugh hysterically. Trust Carly to find a way to try to appear selfless, but it was just a façade. Carly just wanted to insert herself into Jason's life in any way possible and control every aspect until she was satisfied with the way Jason was living to her expectations. "You're seriously offering to get pregnant with Jason's baby?" She asked, with the best damn poker face in the world.

"It'd be your baby. Your DNA. I mean, I would be the surrogate. I'd carry the baby for you and Jason. Absolutely," Carly reassured her, hurriedly.

Sam didn't believe that for a second. If Carly ever thought she had a single chance to be with Jason, she would seize it in a heartbeat. She'd likely use her own eggs, instead of Sam's, to shamelessly tie herself to Jason. "Well, that's a generous offer. But, Carly. I can't. I can't do that," she stated, pretending to be humbled by Carly's "selflessness."

"Why?"

"Why? For starters, you have your own health issues. I mean, come on, you almost died when you were pregnant with Jocelyn," Sam answered, swirling her spoon idly in the cup of coffee.

"I know what I am offering," Carly said. "I'd do everything right for you."

"I know you mean well, but can we please just drop the subject?" It was frankly pissing Sam off, just making her more aware of the fact that Jason didn't seem all that interested in her or the life they could have.

"Ok. If you give me one good reason," Carly challenged, arms folded over her chest.

"Cause I could never ask you to do that. I could never ask you to carry me and Jason's baby. I don't think I could deal…with the sadness if something were to go wrong," Sam told her, welling up crocodile tears in her eyes. She had been a very good fake crier. Her father had been so proud with the way she had been able to manipulate people, back when he was teaching her how to be a con-artist. It was one of the few life lessons she had learned from him that actually was worth a damn.

Carly fell for it—hook, line, and sinker. The blond was always willing to believe that others cared about her, it seemed to fuel her own ego and narcissism. "Ok. I understand that. I really do. But, Sam, down the road, if you don't at least try, don't you think you're going to regret it?"

"I don't even think Jason wants a child."

"I think Jason is grieving so badly that he doesn't know what he wants. I think this is one decision you're going to have to make for him."

Sam pursed her lips, but looked up to see Molly passing by Kelly's windows. When her younger sister saw her, Molly's eyes rounded and she came rushing into the restaurant like her life depended on it. "Sam!" Molly skid to a stop by there table, looking pale and upset. "Hey, I've been looking for you."

"Now isn't a good time, Molly," Sam said.

"I know that things are crazy right now, but you have to know something," Molly stated, earnestly. "I confronted Jason about how he isn't spending time with you, and he completely—"

"Molly," Sam winced, pressing her head into her hands. "You shouldn't have done that. You're a kid, alright? Adult stuff is very complicated and what's going on with Jason and I…it's going to take time. Jason doesn't express himself in grand romantic gestures like in those books you have. He shows his affection differently than that."

Molly looked like she wanted to say something, but her eyes flickered to Carly who was watching the interaction intently. Sam wondered what that look meant, but she watched her sister draw herself up with a breath. "He's helping Elizabeth," she blurted out.

Sam felt her heart stop. "What?"

"He's what?" Carly said, with incredulity.

"I…I didn't overhear a lot. Jason made a guard drive me home," Molly said, sullenly. "But I know he's having Spinelli look into something in regards to Elizabeth."

Carly gave Sam a pointed look.

Sam held back an aggravated sigh.

* * *

 _Temple of Amun_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _48 BCE_

In the shade of night, Bayek scaled the towering temple walls and pulled himself on top of a roof. He kept crouched downward, using any shadow or object to obscure him from the watchful eyes of the tower archers. The compound was large and complex as a maze to anyone who did not know their way. But Bayek had been here before, so he knew the paths like the back of his hands. What he did not know was how the guards inside moved and what their patrol rotations were like. There were a staggering number of soldiers here, and he realized the Ibis truly had grown increasingly paranoid since news of Rubjek's death had reached Siwa. He peered through the small window to a nearby room, and ducked back down. Sleeping guards—only two—slumbered inside on bedrolls, unaware of the danger that stood right outside their door.

He grappled with his decision. He could kill them now, and lower the guards' body count. Or he could leave them be, for he did not know when the others would come to be relieved of their duties. Dead bodies would sound the alarm through the Temple as fast as him strolling through the front gates would have, so he stowed away his blade and crept through the room on the balls of his feet. One of the men fidgeted in his sleep, but continued to snore unaware of the man who slipped on by. He crossed across the path mindful of every nose and movement around him, and when saw a guard ahead, he lunged with the swiftness of a leopard.

His dagger unsheathed in the blink of an eye, buried into the man's throat before he could scream. He tugged the soldier into a nearby building, and hid him as best he could when he a voice—the fearful echo of a man's voice came from downstairs.

"The gods will not forgive you!" the voice said, his breath hitched with pain and fear. "You cannot lock us up like this!"

Careful and wary of a trap, Bayek crept down the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw a temple priest on his knees quivering in fear with his arms bond behind him, and the guard towering over him, backhanded him across the face. The medjay growled, leaping over the stone bannister and the guard whipped around. Bayek struck him across the temple with his fist, sending the man stumbling back and the priest quick to act tripped him with his foot. A second later the medjay had stabbed him through the heart, ending his life and cutting off his shout for back up. "Are you alright, priest?" Bayek inquired, in an urgent tone while he cut the man's binds.

The priest rubbed his raw and red wrists gingerly. "I am fine now. Thank you, Bayek."

"What has happened? Why are the guards imprisoning you?" Bayek questioned, gesturing for him to follow him out of the building. Behind the building was tall bushes and grass, a good spot to hide to avoid the guards until the medjay could clear the priest a path.

"Medunamun has held us prisoner, me and four others. He has threatened our families if we do not give answers about the Temple," the priest wept, heavily. His hands were shaking heavily, and his breathing too quick. "But the questions he asks…we know nothing about a vault."

A flash of anger twisted with a dark memory lashed through Bayek's mind, and he choked it down painfully. The medjay placed a steady hand on the older priest's shoulder, and told him, "Stay hidden. Stay safe. I will try to get you and the others out of this."

"Wait," the priest said, grasping his arm. "There are also farmers that are being held in the stocks for protesting the raise in taxes. I fear Medunamun intends to make an example of them, and see them hanged. Siwa can't afford to lose good men, let alone good famers. If you can spare them aid as well…"

"I will see it done," Bayek promised. He stalked through the temple with renewed vigor and determination, his heartbeat seemed to throb throughout his entire body and vengeance simmered in his gut. Revenge was not a quick burn; it was a slow and steady and took time before it boiled over. The grief had consumed him in the first few days after he buried his child, and then the anger grew gradually afterwards. He went on his mad quest for vengeance knowing how far from home his hatred and anger would take him, and how much it would change him. But some things stayed the same, his need to help and protect people was too much of who he was.

The stocks were at the back of the Temple near the irrigation system, and there was opening in the fortresses defense there. A downhill path that did not have walls to block the way that the farmers could escape down, if he made sure there were no guards to give chase or harm them. It would be easier to save the farmers and get them out of the way before he scoured the Temple for where the rest of the priests would be. Medunamun would not kill the priests, he needed answers and he would not risk losing that information. So Bayek darted up the path, and let out a breathless oath when he saw three guards straight in his way.

He had no chose, but to fight now.

He unsheathed his blade, and looped his shield through his arm, then charged the three guards. He took them by surprise, and made to cleave his blade through the first man. The blade of his khospeh was so sharp that it cut through the man, only to be stopped by his spinal cord. Blood spilt like waterfall and the man's scream, grasping at his side when Bayek pulled the blade free. He whirled around and raised his shield to block the war hammer that swung at him with bone-crushing force. The force of it jarred his bones and made his teeth rattle in his skull. The next blow had him tumbling to the ground, and he rolled his body with it to absorb the harshness of the impact. His blood thrummed through his veins, the sweet song of a bloodlust rushing through him and consuming him. His dug into the earth, pulling up dirt and he spun around, throwing it straight into the guard's face.

The guard gave a shout, hand flying up to his eyes and Bayek sprang forward, driving his sword through the guard's chest. When the blade his pulled free, the man dropped to the ground like a sack of ice. A burning blade rippled through his upper soldier, where an arrow skimmed across his bare arm and he spun on his heels to face the archer. He ran forward, ducking underneath the arrow that sailed over his head and with his shield knocked the bow of the guard's hand. The guard backpedaled until his back was pressed against the wall, and Bayek plunged his blade clean through his skull. He was dead instantly.

"You there! Halt!" A shout came from behind him.

Bayek whipped around, and charged.

There was no time for hesitations; there was no time to think. He moved like with an animalistic instinct, a predator whose entire body and thought was to kill. The clangor of sword against sword echoed through the Temple, and Bayek felt his heart pulse with each swipe of the blade. He could see the cell full of farmers, and hear one of them cry out, "That's Bayek! He will save us!"

The medjay fought with every inch of his soul, even when the enemy's blade struck him across the neck. It was a glance of the blade, a slice barely deep enough to draw blood, but Bayek had no illusions of how it could have been a much deadlier strike. With a furious roar, Bayek swung his sword upward with all his strength and the blade sliced across the man chin, and stuck into his jaw. The shock of the wound caused the man to drop backwards, and the medjay spared him further pain by plunging his blade through his skull. Killing may be a necessary evil, but he was not a cruel man.

These men were merely a folk of sheep, heedless of the evil they served. He would grant them mercy of being spared or as painless deaths as he could possibly give them. His cruel and wrath was well-deserved, and was reserved for those who had cost him his child. Clearing his head with a sharp shake, Bayek marched over towards the cage and busted the door open with his shield. He wretched the cage open and allowed the farmer's flee. "Down the hill, quickly. Stay together, there is safety in numbers," he advised them, knowing that the desert had many dangers as well. Together they could survive in it. When the last one walked out of the cage, the medjay made to turn away only to see a body lying in the dark corner of the cell. His eyes rounded, and he felt his heart jolt upon recognition.

It was Teremun.

He knew him well, though he could not say they were friends. Still the sight of lifeless eyes on a face of someone he had once seen every day rattled him. He knelt down, checking the man's breathe and found none. Not that he had expected anything different, but he had to be sure.

Grief burrowed through his veins, and made itself home in his weary body. He closed Teremun's eyes with a gentle touch, and mourned for another innocent lost to the madness that had fallen over all of Egypt. "I'll come back for your body, my friend. Your family will be able to put you to rest and you will not have to wander the Duat forever," Bayek promised, his tone and expression solemn. He rose to his feet, and walked out of the cage. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the farmer descend down the hill as if hyenas chased them and prayed to Amun that they would be safeguarded until they reached the village. He could not guide their way, because with the bodies of those he had killed were sure to have been discovered.

Medunamun could not be allowed to escape.

Drawing in a deep breath of desert air, Bayek readjusted his grip on his sword and stalked back towards the heart of the Temple. His heartbeat was like thunder and his steps were like lightning, he charged up the path and into the nearest building. He knocked out the guard standing watch with a brutish fist to the back of his cranium, and shoved the body into the pantry where it would be hopefully the last place anyone would look for it. Sheathing his sword and tying his shield in place on his back, Bayek withdrew his bow thinking that if he was a quick enough shot then he could take out many enemies from the rooftops. He climbed up the stairs and out onto the balconies when he saw Senu circling madly overhead.

He felt a thrum run through him at her call, and knew that she had found one of the priests. He climbed up the walls, agile and swift in the way his father had taken him to get a better vantage point. His eyes scoured the area below, and he saw two priests stuck in a wooden makeshift cell in the corner of an enclosed garden.

"I am dying of thirst…please," one of the priest supplicated, leaning against the frame of the wooden cage. The guard caustically ignored the man's plea, and turned his back on the cage, walking away from the ailing man. Bayek drew an arrow back, guiding it with a careful and steady hand. He released the arrow, sending it to slice through the air and into the back of the soldier's skull.

The soldier dropped to the ground with a thud.

The two priests jolted in their cage, startled and frightened.

Bayek slung his bow over his shoulder and then descended from his perch and made his way to release them, when one of the priests' eyes widened with pure terror. He pointed a gnarled finger to something behind Bayek, and whispered, "Bayek, behind you!"

Bayek whipped around to find three men entering the enclosed area. Two were mere soldiers, but the third was not. "Bayek of Siwa," the third man sneered, his beady eyes narrowed. His face painted golden and a leopard's skin draped over his shoulders. His jewelry and clothing indicated he was high standing priest in the Temple, but Bayek knew who was. He had on a mask the first time they had met, but his voice was unmistakable.

"The Ibis. Medunamun," he countered, a cold rage burning in his gaze. Vengeance pulsed in his veins and demanded a payment in blood. His hand rested on the pommel of his sheathed blade. His entire world and purpose was focused on ending this man like he ended Rubjek. He would end all of them that tore his world apart, and he lunged forward with a battle cry.

* * *

 _General Hospital_

 _Later That Evening_

It was unnerving being her at work.

It was unnerving standing at the Nurses' Station, typing away on the computer and knowing that down below in the morgue was her son's body. It was horrible thought, one that circled back around into her mind when she least expected and hit her like a ton of bricks. She didn't want to be back here at work. She didn't feel ready to be back at work, but Monica insisted that they were short staffed so she couldn't afforded to let Elizabeth have any more time off. She pinched the bridge of her nose, scribbling something down in one of the patient charts when she was approached by Matt Drake, Patrick's brother and fellow doctor at the hospital.

"I need the Sandra Scaviola chart, please," Dr. Matt Drake asked.

"Here you go," Elizabeth handed it over, easily.

"Thank you," Matt flashed his boyish smile. "How are you doing today?"

"Ok so far," she replied, with a meek shrug.

"That's goo—" He cut off, his brows furrowing as he surveyed the chart. "That's weird."

"What's wrong?" Elizabeth cast him a look.

"Well, the patient is allergic to penicillin, which is noted in the records, but it's not on the admission forms. Someone really screwed up here," Matt said, with a deep frown.

Elizabeth had a confused expression for a split second, and then cursed softly underneath her breath. "I'm the one who was working on admission forms earlier. It was my mistake," she groaned out, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn't believe she had been so caught up in her head that she forgotten to write down something so vital to a patient's care. "She wasn't prescribed it, was she?"

"No, she wasn't."

"Thank God," she said, relieved. "I'll go into the files and add it now, and inform the doctor who treated her of the mistake just in case she comes back because the medicine she was prescribed doesn't work, so the doctor won't turn to penicillin as the next option."

"Yeah. Well, it's not your fault." Matt scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. He seemed to be trying to cheer her up, knowing how she tended to beat herself over every mistake no matter how big or small. "I mean, this is result of the budgets being cut, and the staff is stretched extraordinarily thin. Not to mention, you are going through a lot right now. Monica should have left you have more time off. She shouldn't have you work like this."

"You're probably right. I don't feel like myself and I don't feel confident to be working, but I feel if I refused, Monica would find some way to use it to get me fired," Elizabeth admitted, with a small sigh. She picked up the pen and opened the patient chart to write down Mrs. Scaviola's allergy to penicillin. "And I don't want to lose or leave this job, until I know for sure that I have another one waiting for me."

"Couldn't you take off though?" Matt asked. "Jason did leave you that money."

"I never wanted Jason's money. I never asked for it and I never wanted to use it. I put away for the boys when they came of age to decide what they wanted to do with it because I didn't want to touch it," Elizabeth told him, an edge to her tone. Her blue eyes hardened slightly, and she pressed the pen against the paper with more force than necessary. "It felt like a cop out, a pay offer to make him feel better about breaking his promises and walking away from our family. I didn't want his guilty money."

"Okay, okay," Matt held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Matt," Elizabeth sighed, shutting the patient file. "Jason is still a sore subject for me."

"I thought you two had talked?" He raised a brow.

"We did. We did, but…one talk doesn't change the past. It doesn't clear the air or undo all the hurt we've put each other through. I'm not sure that Jason and I will be able to do that with a single conversation," Elizabeth reached up, tucking her hair behind her ears and gave him a sad smile. "But I don't want to think about that right now. I have enough on my plate then to add Jason into the mix. I am trying to shut down all those "what ifs" scenarios plaguing me because I already have so many other doubts buzzing inside of my head."

Matt went to say something, but his pager went off. "Oh, shit," he checked it, and then glanced up at Elizabeth with a beseeching expression and held out the patient file he had with him. "Hey, can you take this to Room 497? I just got paged into surgery."

"Yeah, I can do that. Uh, Sabrina," she called out to the other young woman working in the hub, "do you mind watching the hub while I go run this down to a patient's room?"

"Sure," Sabrina agreed, easily. "It's no problem."

"Thanks," Elizabeth flashed the other nurse a grateful smile. She got onto the elevator and went a few floors up, and walked down a couple of hallways to find the room she was looking for. The door was closed so Elizabeth knocked, and got a small voice asking her to come in.

"Hi, I'm here to drop of your charts," she said, carefully stepping into the room. On the hospital bed was a girl that looked younger than the fifteen years written on the chart. There was something fragile and shattered in those light green eyes framed in dark circles by sickness and lack of sleep. The poor girl was hooked up to dialysis machine and almost twenty different medicines to cope with her lack of kidneys. "I'm Nurse Elizabeth Webber," she introduced herself, when the young girl looked at her with a skittish look. She hooked the chart on the end of the bed gently, and gave the girl a disarming smile. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm okay," the teenager said, her voice raspy from disuse. She had a busted lip and bruised cheek. There were hands prints on her arms, and the bruises had faded to greenish yellow. "I'm…uh, I'm Nelle Benson. I'm pleased to meet you. Are you my new nurse or something? I haven't seen you before."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Elizabeth chuckled. "I've been off work so you wouldn't have a chance to meet me before now."

"Oh. Okay," Nelle fiddled with the sketchbook on her lap.

"Do you like to draw?" She inquired, lightly.

"Yeah, but I'm not really good at it," the teenager said, with a shrug.

"Practice makes perfect. It took me years before I was able to draw or paint something I was happy with, and learn my own style during that time," the nurse said, with an encouraging smile. "Maybe all you need is the time to hone your craft."

Nelle smiled, a little surprised and pleased by the unexpected kindness. "Yeah. Maybe," the blond girl said, softly. "Do you know…do you know when the police officers are supposed to drop by? I was told that they were supposed to be here today to take my statement."

"I don't know, but I can call the front desk and see if I can't find out for you," Elizabeth offered, kindly.

"Thank you," Nelle said, visibly relieved.

Elizabeth smiled, walking over to the telephone on the nightstand. She dialed in the numbers she memorized by heart. "Uh, hi, Epiphany. It's Elizabeth. I am in room 497 with Nelle Benson. She said the police are supposed to come and take her statement. Do we have a time for that or can someone call the police station to get a time? Alright. Okay. Thank you," she said. Placing the phone back into the cradle, she turned towards the patient. "They will be here in about thirty minutes. Is there anything else you need before I leave?"

"Umm…jello cups?" Nelle asked, with a hopeful look.

"I can have someone bring you a couple," Elizabeth promised.

The nurse left the room feeling like there was a lead weight in her chest. She had no illusions that Port Charles had a dark side, but there had been a brighter side, too. In these last couple of years, the good moments seemed less and less, completely obscured by the bad. It felt like a world gone mad in some instance. She made it back to the Nurses Station in record timing, and found Dante along with Detective Dolores talking animatedly with Sabrina. She noted that Sabrina looked frustrated which was saying something because the girl was the most laid back person that she had ever met in her entire life. "What's going on?" She asked, interjected herself into the argument before Sabrina could throw the patient file at Dante's head which is what she looked like she was about to.

"Elizabeth," Dante turned around, relieved.

"Dante," Dolores said, with a warning tone.

"Her brother is dating my mother. It's just family talking," Dante defended.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, but nodded. She allowed him to walk her away, and she turned towards him with a cold, reserved expression on her face. "Since when are we family, Dante? Your mother may be dating my brother, but you've never set a foot into my household, expressed interest in my life so I have to ask why all the sudden are you butting in now," she said, with her head cocked to the side.

"Look, it's about Jake's case," Dante said, quietly.

"What about it?" Elizabeth asked, her voice drained of all emotion. It was like she completely shut herself down in that moment, created a barrier to protect herself from whatever blow was going to come now.

"Some new information has come up. We've got footage of a car on the road that night. No lisences plates and—" Dante started to explain.

"Anna didn't mention that," she interrupted, with a frown on her brow.

"Anna hasn't entered into evidence."

"But why?" Her eyes were narrowed, unable to believe that Anna wouldn't have a good reason for admitting the footage into evidence.

"Because of the source of the information."

"What source?" Elizabeth asked, her anger—the uncontainable rage—bubbling up inside of her. She could see Dante was hedging, that he was hiding something and it made her want to lunge at him and shake him violently. "What source?"

"Sam McCall has been helping with the investigation. Well, she wanted to help," Dante started, but he was cut off when Elizabeth shoved him away with a surprising force. "Elizabeth, what—"

" _Hell no._ Hell no!" Elizabeth snapped, angrily. "Are you serious? She was a suspect! As far as I know, she is still one. And even if she has been cleared, I wouldn't want that woman anywhere near anything involving me or my children. So I agree with Anna's judgment in not accepting the footage into evidence. What the hell is wrong with you? You know that Sam and I have an ugly history."

"I know that! But Sam loves Jason—"

"And that makes her a good, virtuous person? That somehow absolves her of everything she did to me or my children?" Elizabeth shouted, fury swept into her cheeks. "That woman once gloated that my son was gone when he was kidnapped at six months old, and that is just the tip of the iceberg of what Sam did to my family out of her _love_ for Jason! And you know what you can do, Detective Dante? You can take that footage that Sam gave you and screw yourself sideways with it! And don't think I won't mention this conversation to Anna."

Elizabeth walked away, ignoring him calling for her to wait and moved into the locker area where only employees were allowed to go. She paced the length of the concrete floor, and drew in deep breaths. Suddenly, her fist went flying into the metal side of the lockers and the thunderous clang echoed through the locker room. Her knuckles ached and stung, but the pain drew her focus. It drew her thoughts away from her son, her failures, and she knew it wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. She knew it was utterly stupid, but by God, she didn't care in this moment.

"Hey," Robin's voice came from behind her, "are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. Nothing is alright," Elizabeth growled out.

Robin opened her mouth, and then closed it. She stood there for a few minutes with an uncertain look on her face before she took a hesitant step forward. "I can't imagine what you are going through. I know how it feels to lose a loved one, but I have never lost a child," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I can't tell you how to feel in this moment, or what to do about it. All I can say is one day it'll hurt less."

"I don't if I'll ever make it to that one day, Robin," Elizabeth admitted, her voice choked. Her blue eyes were filled with tears and her jaw clenched with rage. "I can barely function as a human being, and I struggle to be the mother Cameron needs right now. I have to force myself to eat, I have to take pills in order to sleep. I have these emotions and feelings that make me want to crawl out of my own skin and just drown into nothing because nothing would surely feel better than _this_."

"Elizabeth, don't say that," Robin looked horrified.

Elizabeth turned to her friend, with trembling look on her face when her cellphone went off. She sighed, heavily and pulled the cellphone out of her pocket. She frowned to see Cameron's number on the caller ID. She had given him an old Motorola phone—because she wasn't buying an expensive phone until he proved he was responsible enough to take care of one first—but he was at home with the babysitter so she didn't know why he didn't just use the house phone. A sudden fear blossomed in her stomach, in dark swirls that twisted and snaked through her from head to toe. She answered it, "Cameron? Cameron, sweetie, is everything alright?"

" _Ah…a mother's intuition, how sweet…"_ A voice that she did not recognize replied. It was a deeper, male voice with a malicious undertone that made her skin shiver in disgust.

"Who is this?" She asked, carefully to keep her tone neutral.

" _Call me Franco. Let's play a game, shall we?"_

* * *

 **END OF CHAPTER!**

Alright, so I read some of Melissa's stories on her crimson glass site and she has this amazing story, "Fool Me Twice". I just read the latest chapter, and it had me on the edge of my seat, but also made me realize that it had similarities to what I was going to do in the next couple of chapters of my story. I always try to not write something so close alike another author's so I knew I had to change my chapters up. I have to admit that it was actually kind of a blessing in disguise, because I was thoroughly dissatisfied with how my story was turning out with the way I was writing it. So going scraping my first draft and writing anew was pretty good and helped me get the ball rolling. So while they have a hint of a similar situation—I'm not spoiling Melissa's story, go read it if you really want to know—overall how it unfolds is very different.

Did that Carly and Sam seem overboard? While I have made no attempt at sugar coating that Sam is the worst product of herself in this fanfic—who didn't grow or gain any kind of redemption—the dialogue here isn't just me playing that up. The dialogue between Carly and Sam was straight out of the show until Molly arrives that is. It was on 4/11/11, a month after Elizabeth and Jason's son was killed. Obviously, it happened earlier here but that's because of Jason saving Elizabeth, and the other factors that have pushed Carly to press her agenda more quickly than in canon.

Temple of Amun—there is the main quest against Medunamun and two side quests. I didn't realize they all happened in the same spot while playing the game and was trying to do them all at the same time. It was chaotic, I was getting chased by guards, it was just all over the place. That's kind where Bayek's mad dash through the Temple came out to be in writing.

Friz—for anyone who likes Franco or Friz, this isn't a good Franco. This is the psychotic version of him played by James Franco that I think is the best type of Franco, I don't like how he is portrayed now on screen because it screams tone deaf and a lot of other things that I personally can't stand to watch. Franco is and always will be a bad guy in my writings. Sorry.

RRs are appreciated. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, c8499145, kcke2pen, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, vonnicus36, aphass, Starbright62, jasgem, cotytto, bjq, Jmmartinez227129 for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, Meghie03, killianariel18100, Phasesofthemoon, jasgem, starlight guardian, Jmmartinez227129 for the favs!

I want to thank, trini12180, Twisted Musalih, notenoughlove, babeboo1968, starlight guardian, kcke2pen, Guest, bjq, arcoiris0502, Jmmartinez227129 for the reviews.

Guest Reviews:

Guest: Thank you! Yep, Liz's parents might be showing up at some point. What they have to do with all that's going on you'll have to wait and see. ;) I always felt that after Jason got back with Sam, everyone had to talk her up constantly as if to make her bad deeds in the past not seem so bad or make them seem unimportant because she changed. All the constant reminders of how good Sam was, took away from the "redemption" she was given in my eyes. Dante was one of those people, too, blinding accepting Sam help in Jake's investigation. Sam wasn't evil on the show as opposed to this fic at that time, but it still seemed like a bonehead choice. I didn't mind that Liason didn't end up together, it's a show at the end of the day, but I have never seen writers go out of their way to backstab a couple to prop another. Deliberately using days that were important to Liason after the "death" of Jake, to make up a surgery to rewrite Sam's hysterectomy and magically give a Jasam child made me stop watching. Yeah, after that I don't think they wrote Jason like Jason anymore. He had no depth to his writing, no drive that was his own, only him being pulled along by what Sonny and Carly wanted, and occasionally Sam, too. Nelle is a bit of a wild card, that's for sure. Franco wants nothing good, and Liz won't be ending up in love with him or friends with him in this story. Whether she kicks his ass, you'll have to read and find out. Thank you so much! I love Melissa's writing, too. We do have different styles, and it would have turned out different. I'm just paranoid, I don't want anyone to think I'm copying them or something. I've had people plagiarize my works before, so I would never do that to another writer, and I try to make sure no one feels like I am.

 **History Fact:** Both Egyptian men and women wore make-up. The eye-paint was usually green (made from copper) or black (made from lead). As well as offering protection from the sun, the Egyptians believed make-up had magical healing powers, too!

 **CHAPTER WARNING: VERY DARK. GRAPHIC CHARACTER DEATH, CHILD ABUSE, AND MORE.**

Chapter Inspired by the Songs:

"Dark On Me" by Starset

 **CHAPTER WARNING: VERY DARK. GRAPHIC CHARACTER DEATH, CHILD ABUSE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND MORE.**

* * *

SIX

"The real world is where the monsters are."

― Rick Riordan, _The Lightning Thief_

 _March 28, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _Boxcar_

Elizabeth stood there, shaking.

 _"Come to the boxcar, you know the one. Leave your cell phone at the hospital. Come alone and don't tell a soul, Elizabeth. If you do, Cameron will pay the price."_

It was a bone deep fear that cut into her. A terror that blossomed inside of like a sickly sweet, poisonous flower that warped her thoughts and feelings until there was nothing left, but fright and trepidation. The grass was soft underneath her shoes, the slightest of noises as she approached the boxcar with her heart hammering away in her chest. It was the boxcar where she had hidden Jason all those years ago. She had only been seventeen when she had found him lying in the snow, shot and bleeding. They had become friends at a time when both of them had been going through a whole lot of grief so she couldn't just leave him in the snow, or call for an ambulance. She had done what she thought was right in her heart, and picked up him out of the snow, urging him to live. It had been a turning point for them, a moment that had connected them beyond what anyone, even they themselves, understood at that point.

Franco, a critically acclaimed artist. Franco, a vicious serial killer obsessed with Jason.

Maybe it had been naïve to think she and her boys escaped his mind games. For the year that he had been skulking around causing havoc and damage to everyone remotely related to Jason, Franco had never come near Elizabeth or her children. He seemed wholly indifferent to them, like they weren't a blip on his radar. Maybe it was the way Jason abandoned them and never looked back. Maybe it had fooled Franco into thinking that Elizabeth and her boys weren't worth the effort because Jason didn't care about them. It was probably the only time Elizabeth had been ever grateful for the painful way things ended between her and Jason because it kept a monster away from her family.

When Franco had been shot and fell into the harbor, the whole town breathed a sigh of relief but that relief was spent too soon. The police had been searching the choppy waters for a body.

A body that wouldn't be found because Franco was alive and he now had Cameron.

Elizabeth didn't know why he was pulling her into his games now, after so long. She honestly didn't care. Her only thought was to make sure she and Cameron got out of this alive, and whole. Everything else was background noise until they were safe as houses. Her hand wrapped around the cool steel and she pulled the door open with a loud metallic shriek. Her high strung nerves cringed from the sound, as if she were struck by lightning and then came the smell. The stench of blood and death, followed by the sound of flies and her heart plummeted down to her feet. She rushed into the boxcar and jumped nearly a foot in the air when lights—motion detection lights that had been strung overhead came to life, pointed at the body of Maxie Jones like a spotlight.

Maxie was dangling on the side of the wall, her limbs stretched with barbwire and she was position in a way like she had been nailed to a cross. Like she was made into a martyr and words had been painted in blood above her head—the bastard had used her own blood—that read: _Liar. Whore. Adulterer. Hypocrite._ And Elizabeth felt her stomach churn, violently. Only a second later, she was on her hands and knees vomiting violently. She felt nauseated down to the marrow of her bones, and a sickness quivered across her skin, almost like a slimy film. There was no mistaken the intent behind this, no mistaken the sick mind of a madman that wanted Maxie to be punished for her "sins" and displayed her off like a martyr in an attempt to say Maxie thought herself holier than thou.

Maxie wasn't Elizabeth's friend. There was too much bad blood, but Elizabeth had never wished the girl harm. She did horrible things and made bad choices, but the blond had a good heart that would have eventually overcome all that. Now, she would never get the chance to.

She barely heard the crackle of white noise come from a speaker placed in the corner, and Franco's voice came through in the second that followed. _"Artist to artist, what do you think of my new master piece? I call it, 'Two-Faced Angel,'"_ he cackled at his own joke, and Elizabeth's hand curled into knuckle white fists as she leveled a loathsome glare at the speaker. _"It is fitting, isn't it? Maxie who paraded around the town like she was someone virtuous icon, looking down her nose at others including yourself and acting like her own past was of no consequence. Acting as if her own sins did not weight upon her soul, but I made her pay for those sins upfront. It was fun while it lasted, but I have my sights set on much bigger prey."_

"Where is my son, you bastard?" Elizabeth shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. She wanted to fight, to thrash, to hit something. Instead, she sat with her knees in the soft, muddy ground that smelt of blood and death, feeling cold and despairing hopelessness burrow into her heart. 

_"Now, now, Lizzie. Mind your manners and have a little patience,"_ Franco stated, his voice all too smug and self-assured. _"We aren't to the end game just yet. There is so much more of chase ahead of you yet, as we've just begun. Remember where you felt nothing, your next present will be waiting for you there. Toodles."_

An electric crack and the speaker cut out. Elizabeth sat there staring wide eyed at it, her pulse throbbing in her skull. "Where I felt noth—Jake's," she gasped out. It had been where after Lucky's "death", she had gone to get drunk and start a fight. She had tried to revert back to her days of underage smoking and bad choices, because she had thought that maybe it would make her feel something, _anything._ Instead, she ended up about to get into a bar fight with a handsy drunk when Jason had stepped in to save her. It was the moment when their friendship really began. Shakily, Elizabeth rose to her feet and glanced up at Maxie's pale and motionless features. "Maxie, I'll send someone to come and get you. I won't…I won't leave you like this. I'll make sure your family gets to put you to rest as soon as I save Cameron. I'm so sorry."

Elizabeth went running, rushing down the walk way towards the main streets. It was about five blocks from Jake's, and she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her feet slapped and echoed against the pavement, the sound impossibly loud in the silence of night. A couple of cars passed by and she had to swallow down the instinct to reach out for help, because she couldn't risk Cameron like that. No matter how scared she was, she knew that her baby was more terrified than she could imagine. She couldn't lose him, she couldn't lose him like she lost Jake. She slammed through the bar door, nearly toppling a drunk man right over and apologized more out of reflex than any true desire to. Her mind was focused on a mission to get her son to safety then to care about her surroundings and anyone in them.

The bars décor hadn't been updates since the late eighties, and smelt like stale beer and cheap pretzels. People milled about, drowning their woes or getting a drink after a long day's work. Elizabeth pushed past a couple of women, her blue eyes searching the bar from head to toe for any sign of the present that Franco left her. _Oh, God, if it's anything like the scene in the boxcar,_ she thought, a cold perspiration broke out along her forehead. Her knees trembled and knocked together, but she stood standing. She couldn't collapse now, she couldn't breakdown and give into the terror bursting through her with each thump of her heart.

Her mind was in overdrive, the thoughts jumbled and moving too fast. She made her way over to the table where she and Jason had sat all those years ago. Her fingers pressed down into the wood and she stared down at it, her eyes traced all the lines and waves that ran along the wood. The veins of a tree, sliced and cut up and stained, and there was a sad sensation that pinched at her stomach. There was a time when Elizabeth had no one to save her, a time where she relied solely upon herself, but over the years she developed friendships and loyalties. She had people to catch her when she fell, but not in this game. In this game, she was all alone and she had to remember how to survive all on her own.

Her fingers traced the edge of the table, a little hint of plastic that stuck out on the edge. Her hand dipped below the surface of the table and she felt a case for a disc tapped there. She pulled it off carefully, and stared down at it. Franco was using her history with Jason, using it to build a yellow brick road for her to follow. She knew in her heart that if she played by his rules then Cameron would be dead before she could reach him. He didn't like losing, and if the odds tipped in her favor, he would kill her son to spite her and Jason. But she knew her history better than the psychopath did. She needed to think about one place that was so remote, so out of the way that Franco would set up the final scene.

 _The safe house._ It was a place that was hidden in the forest where she and Jason would go to have stolen moments together, away from the drama and enemies. The courthouse might have been where their relationship came to a painful conclusion, but the safe house had been they had flourished. Where they could be a family and cling to that dream a little bit longer. Elizabeth knew down to the depths of her soul that is where Cameron was. That's where Franco's little chase was leading here, and tossing the disc down into her purse, Elizabeth approached the bar.

"Elizabeth," Coulson said, unusually somber, "long time no see. I…I heard about your kid. I'm sorry about that. That can't be easy."

"It isn't," Elizabeth replied, faintly. "Coulson…I need a favor."

"A drink on the house? Sure, why not?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Not a drink. I need your cellphone."

Coulson froze, and the burly man arched a brow. "You what?"

"I need your cellphone and I need you not to ask questions."

The man scrutinized her for a long moment. "Elizabeth, if you are in some trouble I can call Sonny or Jason—"

"No!" Elizabeth whispered, frantic. "They can't know! They can't!"

Coulson stood there, shocked by her outburst.

"Just…just give me your cellphone. Please," she begged, her hands pressed flat against the bar top. "I don't know how much time I have, so please just me the cellphone."

His eyebrows in his hairline, Coulson slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He discreetly passed it to her as if sensing the need for secrecy, and Elizabeth whispered a quiet thanks before she headed towards the back of the bar. With deft fingers, she stole a woman's jacket off the back of her chair after the woman stumbled up to go dancing out on the floor. Her fingers checked the pocket, and relief split through her when she found keys. Elizabeth shoved her way into the woman's bathroom. She waited until the two ladies in the toilets left, and then locked the door behind them.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth slipped her own jacket off of her body and tossed it aimlessly to the floor. She reached into her purse to dig out a hair piece, and pulled her hair up into a bun before she slipped on the red jacket of that she stole. She pulled the hood up and over her features, glancing into the broken and dirty mirror for a split second. There was a moment of déjà vu where Elizabeth recalled her own childhood, a childhood where she grew up on the Farm. A childhood that she carefully didn't speak of for a number of reasons and her lower teeth sank into her lips. Maybe it was time that her harsh childhood was put to good use.

She turned away from her reflection, and shoved the trashcan in front of the window. It was a small tiny window, but she could slip through it. Clamoring on top of the trashcan for a boost, Elizabeth used her elbow to knock out the window with a grunt. She broke all the glass away and crawled out through it, and into the dirty alleyway. She got up onto her feet and pretended to stumble drunkenly out to the parking lot, she pulled out the keys and hit the unlock button. Lights flashed on a nearby blue SUV, and Elizabeth climbed into it. The multiple crimes she was committing seemed so distant and small compared to what she stood to lose. She would break almost every law in the books, if it meant keeping her son safe.

Shoving the keys into the ignition, Elizabeth pulled out of the parking lot with tires squealing.

* * *

 _Temple of Amun_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _48 BCE_

The rage that coursed through him was without mercy and demanded blood as payment. The thirst for vengeance parched his soul and retribution screamed from the marrow of his bones. Every ounce of his being, every step and motion of his body was focused on one single goal of cutting down the false prophet where he stood. A red haze had enveloped his gaze and stole away all reason in his mind, leaving him little more than an animal frothing at the mouth to kill its prey. The blades clashed together, the sharp sound of a metal against metal danced along the stone walls of the temple and Medunamun smirked, cruelly. "So you have returned," he chuckled, getting some sick amusement out of Bayek's plight. "Your foolish efforts are a waste! You spit in the face of the gods!"

"You serve no gods, you serve only yourself!" Bayek growled out, shoving the prophet back. He charged forward, the tip of his blade crimson with the blood of the many he had slain today. By the time he was finished, he would have spilt enough blood to run the Nile red. "I will right your wrongs!"

"Do you think that I will allow myself to die, my work unfinished? So close, so very close to ushering in the perpetual rule of the strong and virtuous!" Medunamun sneered, moving with the swiftness of a hyena and his attacks were just as vicious.

"Virtue?" Bayek spat, angrily. "Men like you know nothing of virtues!"

A guard lifted a bow, he drew the arrow back and loosed. Bayek crouched in the nick of time, and the arrow splintered on the nearby wall. With his face twisted into a heavy scowl, the Medjay knew he needed to deal with the guards. They were a distraction he could not afford. Ducking underneath the blade meant to cut his head clean off of his shoulders, he elbowed Medanuman sharply and sent the man to the ground with an unforgiving force. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he grasped the nearby jar of oil and swung around to smash it across the guard's face.

The pottery shattered, and the oil spilt out across them in a black ooze. A sharp kick to the gut sent the guard down the stairs and into the makeshift campfire. His shrill screamed rippled through the fortress, and the smell of burning flesh attracted the vultures that flew overhead. Bayek whipped around, evading the twin blades that would have been buried into his back. "I was not born to die on Greek steel! Try again, dog of Ptolemy!" The Medjay growled out.

"Dog of Ptolemy? I do not serve the Pharaoh of Egypt. The boy is a pitiful puppet, a slave to the whispers in his ears," Medunamun laughed, heartily. His lips pulled back into a bloody grin, his teeth strain red from a wound that he received during combat. "The enemy that you face is far greater than a simple minded child upon a dying throne!"

They met in a blinding whirl of swords. Bayek rushed in, slashing with the crescent blade. He met his enemy for each strike, and the vicious of his attacks inspired a fear inside of Medunamun's gaze that grew with each passing second. The prophet reached into his robes, pulling a small golden orb with intricate pattern that was designed by human hands. An invisible force erupted from the orb, knocking Bayek back and his sword skidded across the stone with a loud hiss.

"You men of the desert are short-sighted, not caring for anything more than your simple pleasures. The world literally rested at the tips of your fingers and you stay willfully ignorant of the power you could have possessed. The vault will give us the power of the gods," Medunamun bellowed, his face darkened with wrath. "What is one boy?"

"What is one boy?" The questioned fell from Bayek's lips, his voice filled with rage and disbelief. The memories of that horrible day crashed through him without mercy. He could no longer hold the tide back when he heard the echo of his son's voice from the back of his mind.

 _"Papo?"_

* * *

 _March 29, 2011_

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _General Hospital_

Robin Scorpio-Drake was a buddle of nerves.

She had good instincts—instincts she had inherited from her parents who were both world class spies, so she didn't know why she hesitated for so long before picking up the phone to text Jason. She had seen how Elizabeth had gone white as a sheet when she had gotten that phone call and the tight smile on her face when she made a half-hearted excuse that the babysitter had gotten sick so she needed to get home. She supposed she had figured that if there was a real problem, Elizabeth would have opened up to her. But midway through her shift when it was nearing midnight, a sinister thought rushed through her mind. What if it wasn't about Elizabeth not wanting to open up? What if something or _someone_ was keeping her from opening up?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard when Jason came off the elevator, helping Spinelli walk to the nearest chair. The doctor rushed over and asked, "Oh, my God, what happened?"

Spinelli looked up at her, shame-faced and embarrassed. "I tried to take Stone Cold's motorcycle out for spin. I thought learning to ride it would impress the Fair Maximista and win her affections once more, but the Jackal sadly…ranoverhisownfoot," he confessed in a rush, the tips of his ears burning red.

"Ouch," Robin winched, in sympathy for the young man. Her dark eyes flickered up to Jason and she hesitated for all of a moment. "Uh, Jason, I know you are busy helping Spinelli out, but can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jason nodded, after a moment. He followed her a few feet away and noticed how she seemed to vibrate with anxiety. "What is it? What the matter?" He asked, with a deep set frown on his face.

"It's about Elizabeth," Robin said, wringing her hands together. "She got a phone call earlier, and she tried to play it off, but I think something is really wrong. I don't know what, but she was spooked. Like I haven't seen her so badly shaken since the night of the accident, and I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but she left the hospital in such a hurry."

"Okay. Okay." Jason shifted, restlessly. His brows knitted together and the edges of his mouth tightened, the only sign of outward concern. "Tell me about the phone. What did Elizabeth say to the person on the other end of the line?"

"She was worried. She asked Cameron if he was alright, if something was wrong so I assumed it was Cameron on the other end. Then she just…went still as a statue," Robin said, with a shake of her head. "She then asked 'who is this', and then Elizabeth just said 'alright', hanging up shortly afterward. She claimed that it was the new babysitter she had hired, and that she hadn't recognized her voice which scared her. She said the babysitter said Cameron's having a rough time, so Elizabeth decided to get home quickly to him."

His crystal clear blue eyes searched her face. "And you think it was something else?"

"I know Elizabeth," Robin said, with a slight huff and brushed her bangs out of her face. "She is one of the brightest people I have ever known, and she wears her heart on her sleeve half of the time. So when she starts to shut down and pull away, I know that something has gone horribly wrong."

"Hey," Matt waltzed into the hospital hub, his dark eyes glanced around as if bemused. He had a familiar cellphone in his hand and he walked up to Robin. "Hey, can you give this to Elizabeth? She left it on the bench in the locker room. While I doubt anyone would actually steal it, you never know with all the new interns that Monica has been bringing in to avoid paying out of pocket for competent staff members. No offense," he added to Jason, knowing that he had just thrown shade at the man's mother in front of him.

"Elizabeth left her cellphone?" Robin looked aghast.

Jason took the cellphone out of the other man's hands, ignoring his indignant 'hey'. He unlocked the screen, his heart clenched tight at the sight of a picture of Jake and Cameron smiling happily set as the background. He drew in a tight breath, and opened the call log. The last call came from "Cameron", and he hit the call button. Raising the phone to his ear, Jason listened to it ring and ring until finally a chirper voice picked up, _"Now, didn't I tell you to leave the phone behind, Nurse Nightingale?"_

Jason felt anger slice through him. "Franco," he growled out.

Robin clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes rounded with fear while Matt stared, realizing the gravity of what was going on.

 _"Well, hello, Jason. I can certainly say this is a surprise. Bet you didn't think you'd be hearing from me ever again, did you? Tell me, did Nurse Nightgale leave her phone like she was supposed to, or did she give it to you in the hopes of finding me? Answer quickly, Jason. I wouldn't want Cameron to get hurt if Saint Elizabeth isn't playing by the rules."_

"She left it at the hospital," Jason answered, quickly. He hated giving in and playing into Franco's sick mind games, but he couldn't let Cameron take the punishment for his mistake. He had used the cellphone and made Franco think that Elizabeth had gone against whatever rules he had set, so his position was precarious. "If you have hurt Cameron or Elizabeth—"

Franco burst into laughter. _"You know, I have waited to hear or see the real Stone Cold killer you are raved about being in the underbelly of the world, but this…this is the first time that I truly believe it. You sound so_ vicious _in a way you weren't when I put that bomb on Michael, or kidnapped Sam. You may care to some level about them, but Elizabeth…oh, she is your albatross,"_ the maniac cackled, gleefully. _"I had dismissed her you know. I had labeled her as a mid-life crisis, or revenge sex since you seemed wholly uninterested in her. I didn't realize what a lengthy and long history you two had together, or how well you kept it hidden from the world. Oh, how blind I have been! But now I see…and soon so will you."_

The call ended with a click. The sound held a finality of it that hit him painfully in the stomach, and he struggled to breathe for several seconds as the sheer weight of what was happened crushed him. He had brought a monster to his family's doorstep, and Elizabeth was out there somewhere fighting against it alone. "Robin, I want you to call Anna and tell her what is going on," Jason said, his voice urgent and brokered no argument. "I'm going to Elizabeth's house. Look for any clues or anything that pinpoint where Franco could have taken Cameron. Spinelli, I know you are hurt—"

"Only my foot, Stone Cold!" Spinelli rushed to pull out his laptop, and opened in his lap. "But my fingers are still of use! The Ace of Cyberspace will do his best to find out where chase the Maniacal Fiend has led the Loyal One on, and help save her and Little Cam."

"Good," Jason nodded, sharply. He rushed over the elevator and hit the button with more force than necessary. He had felt so much fear since the times that Jake had been kidnapped, or the time Elizabeth had told him about the gunmen who threatened them. The possibility of losing them, of a world without them tore his heart apart in ways that nothing else ever could.

Franco had been toying around, looking for his weakness.

Now he found it.

There were few times that Jason had moved so fast in his entire life. When Elizabeth was in dangerous, Cameron or Jake, the thought of them being in the line of the crossfire forced him to push himself harder than ever before. He barely recalled the elevator ride and barely recalled the drive to Elizabeth's house. He slammed shut his trunk door behind him and stared at the front door. It was ajar and the handle wet with blood, and his heart slammed into his throat at the sight of it. He ran up the porch stair and pulled the door wide to see Anna Devane standing there, crouched over a dark haired woman face down on the floor in a pool of blood.

Anna turned to look at him, her eyebrow arched slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that…is that Elizabeth?" Jason asked, his voice shaken. Same build, same hair, he felt sick to his soul. He took a step forward when Anna held up a hand as if to ward him off.

"This is a crime scene, so I am going to have to ask you to step outside—"

"Is it Elizabeth?!" He shouted, the cold façade shattered with an untold amount of heartache. His chest felt too tight and his lung burned white hot. His entire world swayed unsteadily and he could feel himself one step from losing his mind. A couple of tears ran down his cheek, but he could barely feel them.

Anna studied him, for a heartbeat. "No, it's not. It's the babysitter."

Jason let out a stuttering breath, his shoulders slumped with relief. Clenching his jaw, he took a step outside of the house like the chief of police requested and only a second later, she followed him out. "I'm going to need for you to explain to me why you thought that was Elizabeth in there, and do it quickly, Mr. Morgan. I am in no mood to play games," she told him, in a fierce no nonsense tone.

"Franco," Jason replied, without hesitation. "Franco knows…knows about my relationship with Elizabeth. He knows that she wasn't just…an affair, so he has Cameron and he has Elizabeth pulled into his twisted scheme."

"Shit," Anna cursed, her eyes closed in despair. "Alright. Alright. I'll call in a team to take care of the crime scene, see if we can't get any clues. In the meantime, you are the best shot Elizabeth and Cameron have at survival. You are the only one who knows Franco's methods in and out, you are the one he is trying to impress so any insight that you can provide would be invaluable. I'll let you help with this because I know how important that Elizabeth and Cameron are to you," the Chief of Police said, with a sharp look in her eye and she pointed at finger at the alleged mobster. "However, you will follow my lead and my orders. Can you do that?"

"If it means keeping Elizabeth and Cameron safe, I would do anything," Jason swore, his tone earnest as it was fierce. It was a declaration, a vow that he had broken so many times before with all the doubts and fears that he allowed to come between him and the family that meant so much to him. He wouldn't break it again. He would keep them safe no matter what it took.

Anna searched his expression for any hint of deceit, and pleased with what she found, she nodded. "Good. Then let's get started."

* * *

 _Temple of Amun_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _49 BCE_

 _ONE YEAR EARLIER_

The streets of Siwa were filled with warmth and life. The smell of fine foods and bread filled the air. The festival had everyone in high spirits and in a joyous move, and time moved languid and slowly on such a perfect day. While Aya decided to help Rabiah with the Temple and preparing it for the Pharoah, Bayek had decided to spend his spare time in the best way he knew how. He was spending it with his son, Khemu.

He watched the boy with a proud smile on his face, his eyes full of affection and love that only a parent could know. It only seemed like yesterday he was being born, a small wrinkly little babe with a patch of dark curls on top of his head. Seven years felt too little time for his son to grow so quickly, he thought with his heart clenched tight in his chest. He was filled with so much pride and wistfulness seeing his son becoming his own person and his own man. In the blink of an eye, the babe that tried to run before he could walk was now determined to bring honor to his family and ancestors, by becoming a Medjay to protect all of Egypt.

Khemu was just a few inches of being four foot tall, with rings of dark curly hair hanging down just past his ears. He had large down turned eyes that were the color of honey, with a small button nose and diamond shaped face. He held a bow in his hand, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth and a flicker of hesitance darted through his eyes before he drew the arrow back. He shifted on the balls of his feet, mindful to correct his stance like Bayek had shown him. His arm wobbled, struggling to notch the arrow back against the tight string. The arrow shook between his fingers, and he released it with a slight hiss. It crossed the ten foot stretch in the blink of an eye, but missed the target by mere inches.

Khemu let out a sigh, disappointment on his face.

Bayek placed a comforting hand his shoulder, kneeling down and held out the quiver of arrows. "You were so close. Come on, one more. One more," he told him, with an encouraging smile. His son thought about it for a moment before he sneakily took two arrows from the quiver, instead of one.

Bayek raised an amused brow.

"Well…" Khemu smiled, sheepishly. His dark curls bounced when he ducked his head, his wide dark eyes were filled with mischief and there was a cheeky smile on his face. "This way, I'll get two."

Bayek ruffled the curls on top Khemu's head, playfully. "Hehe, alright," he chuckled, with a smile on his face. He watched Khemu notch the two arrows back, tapping on his elbow lightly to reminded him to raise it up more and helped him square his shoulders. "Ready?"

"Yes," Khemu nodded, decisively. He went to release the arrows, and Bayek tickled the boy's side making his son jump nearly a foot into the air. The arrows missed the target and the seven year old turned, giving his father a scowl that was ruined by the smile twitching on his lips. "Oh, you made me miss. You…"

Bayek dodged the half-hearted swat in his direction. He looped his arm around his son and pulled him into a one armed hug, Khemu complained even though it was clear that he soaked up his father's attention like a plant underneath sunshine. The pair of them started to pack up weapons when Khemu's best friend, Chenzira came running up the path.

"Khemu, you'll never believe it! I found a hyena cave!" Chenzira said, excitedly. He was slightly smaller and slight more stout than Khemu was, with his head shaven bald save for a small lock of a hair that had been braided and hung to the left of his rounded face.

Khemu gasped. "A real one?"

"Yes!" Chenzira beamed.

Khemu looked back at his father, questioningly.

"Ah, go ahead," Bayek smiled, with a wry grin. He knew that his son was a cautious boy, and that he wouldn't actually go to the cave. Even if Khemu summoned up the courage to do, the Medjay had every intention of shadowing the boys to make sure they wouldn't be hurt on their little journey.

Chenzira grinned, broadly. "You're gonna love it, there's like sixteen hyenas, and they're so dark and scary," the little boy rambled on, gesturing wildly with his hands. He was a very animated child that was a foil for Khemu's usually reserved and shy nature.

Khemu went stock still, his eyes growing big. "Sixteen?" He said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He swayed on his feet, and then took a step backwards towards his father. "Well, you know what, er, I'd rather go hunt with my papo."

Chenzira rolled his eyes. "You always get too scared."

Bayek could see the fight building up between the two boys, and intervened quickly before they could descend into a squabble that would no doubt turn physical like his and Hepzefa's childhood fights often did. "Eh, eh, let's go on a real hunt, huh?" He suggested, stepping in between the boys to drawn their attention on him.

"Alright," Khemu agreed.

Chenzira nodded, placated by the offer.

Bayek led them out of the city, east into the desert following the makeshift road that was only marked by hoof prints and lines where wheels of wagons pressed down into the sand. They watched through the blistering heat and the Medjay abandoned the road, to trek across the golden sand dunes. The boys followed dutifully, both of them vibrating with anticipation.

"What are we hunting?" Khemu asked, eagerly.

"The Oracle wants the pelt of an ibex stag for the ceremony," Bayek explained, with a patient smile. "There is a herd that grazes near the watering hole just below the buttes. The pack leader, the one that we hunt, will be there watching and safeguarding the herd."

"You will stand next to the Pharaoh, won't you, Bayek? You're the Medjay!" Chenzira said.

"Yes, Chenzira," Bayek nodded.

"When I'm Medjay, I'll stand next to the pharaoh," Khemu said, puffing his chest out proudly.

"You'll never be Medjay. You're too scared," Chenzira chided, with a light snort.

A pout formed on Khemu's lips. "That's not true."

"What about the hyena cave?" His friend asked.

"Shut up!"

"Enough, you two," Bayek reprimanded, his tone sharp.

The two little boys fell dutifully silent, but behind the Medjay's back, Khemu stuck out of his tongue. Chenriza wrinkled his nose, and then made a face right back at him. The longer they spent underneath the sweltering sun, the more uncomfortable the journey across the desert became. "The sand is so hot on my feet!" Khemu grimaced, walking a bit faster to avoid having the soles of his feet on the hot sand for too long.

Bayek flashed him a toothy grin. "Sometimes, they light on fire. It makes you faster."

Khemu giggled. "Heh heh. I want my feet to light on fire!"

Bayek chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Splotches of grass and greenery began to sprout up out of the sand the closer they drew the lake, and he held up his hand to stop the boys from walking forward. "It is up ahead," he told them, his eyes pointed upward towards the sky where Senu circled lazily. A soft smile touched the corner of his lips at the sight of her soaring up above.

"Can I come?" Chenzira asked.

Bayek noted at the sun's position in the sky, and released a low sigh. "Sorry, Chenzira. I believe it is time for you to return to your mother. She is relying on you to help her out with the crops since your father is so sick," the Medjay told him, with regret in his tone. "Next time, I promise you can come along."

"All right," Chenzira said, with a downtrodden expression. He gave a light kick, send a dusting of sand up ever so lightly. In the blink eye, the boy perked up and tossed his friend a big smile. "See you at the ceremony, Khemu!"

"Bye, Chenzira!" Khemu waved at his friend who darted back towards the village as if lions were on his heels, or perhaps the sand had lit his feet on fire and that is why he was moving so fast. Turning his big brown eyes to his father, the little boy asked, "Papo, can I help you with the hunt?"

"Of course," Bayek responded, with a light laugh. "Another pair of eyes is exactly what I need to spot the pack leader. Do you have eyes keen enough to help me?"

"Yes! Eyes like Horus himself," Khemu boasted, proudly buffing out his chest.

"Indeed? Then this hunt will be no trouble for you at all," the Medjay commented. He led his sun into the foliage, causing a couple of flamingoes to flutter off at the intrusion onto the peaceful little watering hole. They venture further into the little sanctuary of the desert, underneath the shade of the palm trees and just stop at the tree line. It was a serene and beautiful scene, with the lake glistened underneath the sun like a polished jewel and the cliffs that laid on the other side where the ibex pack lazed about, soaking up the warmth. "Tell me, if you can spot him."

Khemu bit his lower lip, his brows drawn together. His eyes darted from each ibex, from the ones grazing on the grass to their left to the ones sleeping away. Finally, his eyes lit up with childish glee and he opened his mouth, only to pause brief as if remembering to not to be too loud. "Is that one, papo?" Khemu pointed to the ibex stag that clomped his way up on the rocky outcropping and bent it's head downward to lap up the cool water. "He looked different than the others, and has bigger horns."

"Well done," Bayek praised him. "Now come along. Follow my lead and do as I do."

Bayek led him through the grass and trees, as silently as possible to not startle the pack and lose sight of their quarry. Behind him, he heard Khemu calling for Senu and looked at his child over his shoulder with a flicker of amusement. "Why are you calling for Senu?"

Khemu looked flustered. "Chenzira told me I should steal his feathers, so that my weighing ceremony gets me to the Field of Reeds," he admitted, bashfully.

Bayek laughed. "Anubis weighs your heart against a feather. You cannot tamper with this weighing ceremony. It is sacred," he reminded, in a half-hearted reprimand. It took them several minutes before they had made it halfway around the lake's edge, until finally Bayek drew to a halt. "Hold. We should have a clear shot of the ibex here."

With a bow in hand, the Medjay drew an arrow back. He drew in a slow, deep breath to quell the wild thumping of his heart and once it was steady, he released the arrow. It cut clean through the air and pierced the ibex's side. The majestic animal let out a startled noise before it's body pitched to the side, and it collapsed on the ground.

"Did you hurt him?" Khemu asked, his voice trembled.

"A clean shot to the heart hardly hurts at all," Bayek reassured his son, giving him a small consoling smile. "It may seem cruel to hunt such animals, but as long as we hunt only out of necessity and not for sport, we help keep balance to the world around us. One day you will understand this better, I promise."

Khemu didn't look completely convinced, but nodded his head.

Thirty minutes of toil, Bayek managed to skin the beast properly and with great care put the pelt into his satchel alongside some meat that he had shorn off the bone. It would be a waste to leave the entire animal, and was no way of honoring the ibex stag's life. His golden gaze cast upward, he lets out a small sigh. "We will take this to the Oracle before it gets dark," he commented, washing his hands off in the lake. He eyes the vultures already circling overhead, and knew that more vicious predators would soon come in search because the smell of blood.

The two start on the long trek back towards the village along the roadway, and Bayek knows it will nearing sunset by the time they reached Siwa. Khemu had his arms folded by his head, walking leisurely beside his father and his eyes were fixated upon the sky. "One day, I want to shoot an arrow through the sun," he stated, very serious for someone his age.

Bayek chuckled. "You can. Your arrow will have to become Senu."

"Imagine…all my arrows are Senus!" The boy gasped out, in wonder at the thought. He was wholly enraptured with the vision inside of his mind that Bayek had to carefully steer him back to the road before he tripped over some nasty looking rocks. "Then I will be able to hunt anything! I will be like Anhur, the Slayer of Enemies!"

"You can be anything, my son," the Medjay smiled, fondly. A thoughtful look crossed of Bayek's face, his head to tilted to side ever so slightly and then laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "You said you'd like to see the Pharaoh up close?"

Khemu peered up at him. "Yeah…" he said, slowly.

"What if you stand with me by his side?" Bayek asked.

"Can I do that?" His son asked, eyes wide.

"As my son and the future Medjay, yes," Bayek said, decisively.

Khemu was practically vibrating with excitement, but then his face suddenly fell. The excitement disappeared leaving a painful uncertainty, and his eyes lowered down to his feet, shuffling nervously. "Papo," he asked, very quietly, "what is a Medjay, really?"

"The first Medjay was a protector of the pharaoh. But now, it means you must protect all the people of Egypt. Not just protect them, but work for their well-being," Bayek explained, patiently.

Khemu caught his lower lip between his teeth. "What if I never grow up to be a Medjay?"

"Ah, of course you will! You are my son!"

"But I get scared. I try to be brave, but sometimes it's hard," Khemu said, plaintively. "I don't want to be always scared. I want to be brave like you, papo."

He regarded his son for a long moment, taking the downtrodden expression on his face and searched his mind for a way to lift his Khemu's spirit. His gaze drifted up where Halma Point cut an imposing figure against the horizon, and cast a great shadow over the oasis. A memory stirred inside of his thoughts and a spark of inspiration filled his chest, his eyes bright as he turned towards his son. "Hold on. Before we return to Siwa, there is something I have to show you."

"What is it, papo?"

Bayek just smiled.

* * *

Elizabeth had pulled the vehicle off the road and into a ditch about a quarter of the mile from where the safe house was. She was leaving a trail of bread crumbs for someone to find because she knew by now someone had to know something was wrong, given how she left her cellphone and purse at the hospital. One step away from there would lead them to Jake's, to the woman who likely noticed her stolen jacket by now or so she hoped. As the car was stolen, if Franco were to see it or spot it, there would be no way he could trace it back to her. Her heart pounded in her chest, she pushed her way into the bushes and made her way through the trees towards the safe house. _It's alright Cameron. Mommy is almost there,_ she promised, silently.

It had started to rain at some point. Droplets of water slid down through the canopy of trees after a low rumble of thunder in sheets so thick that she was having trouble seeing. She had a passing thought to use Coulson's cellphone and see if it had a flashlight, but it was a thought that came and went. She needed to keep that hidden and out of sight for as long as possible. It was the most important of all breadcrumbs, the one that could save her and her son's life. It felt like eternity passed before she could make out the safe house. Her heart leapt at the sight of it, but not in joy or happiness as it once did.

It was a pang of fear that left a sour taste in the back of her mouth.

The lights were off making it look empty and abandoned, but she knew better. She knew that this was where Franco had set his final stage, and her eyes glanced at the front door warily. She wouldn't—couldn't barge in the front door. Franco was convinced she was still playing catch up with him, and if he were to find out just where she had "cheated" she was afraid of what he would do to Cameron. She had to play this safe and carefully. Clenching her eyes closed, Elizabeth thought about the layout of the safe house and wondered which the best way to enter was. Around the backside, the bathroom window was her best bet. It had a ten foot gap between the forest and the yard, given her less time spent in plain view and the window wasn't so high of the ground that she couldn't get it open.

She circled around the house, each step careful and her eyes stared unblinkingly at the house. The house was filled with bittersweet memories that had long since become ghosts and filled with nightmares; she only hopes that Cameron is spared seeing those nightmares. Even as she hopes, she knows that he already has. The bathroom window reflected the moonlight like a beacon, and she darted across the yard as fast as her legs can carry her. Her hands are shaky and unsteady, fumble for the pocket knife that she always kept in her jeans. It had been given to her by Bobbie shortly after her rape, "a little bit of insurance" for a day is what she said. At the time, Elizabeth didn't think her days could get much darker.

She never realized how wrong she had been until now. _Darkness came in many different shades with so many different ways to rip a soul into ribbons_ , Elizabeth thought while flipping the out and wedged it up in between the two panels. It took several attempts before she managed to wiggle the lock open, and pulled herself up inside of it. She mentally patted herself on the back for the foresight to restart her training after the second time Jake was kidnapped. As a child on the Farm, she had never saw any real point to them, but life often changes a person's perceptive over time.

Climbing down using the toilet as a makeshift staircase, she quietly dropped to the bathroom floor and took in a deep breath. She felt her heart thump in the base of her neck, and her knuckles pressed against the cold white tile. Her eyes fell closed and she listened very carefully; the house was quiet, eerily quiet and she didn't hear a single footstep. Her heart tightened with fear, what if her instincts had been wrong? What if Franco wasn't here? What if she was wasting precious time on a hunch? Swallowing the knot of emotion in her throat, Elizabeth stood up slowly and her hand grasped the door knob.

She turned it, the apprehension cutting deep like broken glass, and she twisted the handle. The door opened with a low groan, the hinges creaking from disuse and beyond the threshold was a wall of darkness. She took one hesitant step after another, feeling as if she had walked into a tomb rather than a place that once had been a home. Her mouth went dry, with her eyes darting everywhere as if the shadows would become monsters that would tear her to shreds, but she still kept moving forward. She had to keep going forward for Cameron, no matter what laid ahead.

With her heart banging against the wall so her chest with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop, Elizabeth pressed her palms flat against the wall. She tried to make herself as small as if that would somehow make her less easier to detect, and when she entered the living room area, her eyes struggled to take in every square inch of it. The pale light from the porch peek in through the slits of the blinds, casting a broken pattern on the floor. She had taken two steps into the living room when a form burst forth from the shadows, barreling into her and slamming her up against the wall.

Air exploded out of her lungs and she felt a scream rippled up her throat, her teeth caught in by biting into her lower lip and she swung the pocket knife around. It sunk deep through flesh and halted when it hit bone, and the violent roar that ripped out of the man—Franco, she caught his face a split second in the light—chilled her blood. Fingers buried into her hair, the brunt of nails digging into her scalp and her faced was slammed into the wall so hard that it make her go limp with shock.

"Looky here! A little mouse stumbles into my trap way too early!" Franco chuckled, darkly. His free hand reached up and he pulled free the knife, dropping it carelessly to the ground while his other hand wrapped tightly around her throat cutting off her oxygen supply. "That was rude, skipping all the levels to my game and heading straight to the finale! But if you are so eager, I'll be happy to accommodate you."

Elizabeth kneed him hard in the stomach, enough to slacken his grip. "If you've hurt my son, I'll fucking kill you!" She threatened, her voice something dark and ugly that sounded nothing like her. Her chest _burned_ with anger, a deep dark primal anger that made her want to tear this man apart. Her eyes widened when Franco pulled something out of his jacket, it glinted in the moonlight.

It was a syringe, filled with a colorless liquid.

"You son of a bitch—" She tried to move away from him, but he moved too quickly.

The needle sunk into the base of her neck, and then four painful seconds passed before everything went dark.

* * *

 **END OF CHAPTER!**

 **Author's Note:** We are finally seeing what happened that fateful day which Bayek's world is being turned upside down, while Elizabeth is experiencing a hell of her own. This is just the beginning of both their journeys and how the past will reflect into the present.

Please review! :D


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

I want to thank, mif456, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, c8499145, kcke2pen, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, vonnicus36, aphass, Starbright62, jasgem, cotytto, bjq, Jmmartinez227129, Wonderwomom, sashahailee for the follows!

I want to thank, mif456, Twisted Musalih, arcoiris0502, babeboo1968, lrobinson01, notenoughlove, trini12180, Meghie03, killianariel18100, Phasesofthemoon, jasgem, starlight guardian, Jmmartinez227129, Wonderwomom, THEfictionfanatic for the favs!

I want to thank, acroiris0502, trini12180, bjq, notenoughlove, Guest, Guest 2, Guest 3, for the reviews.

Guest Reviews:

Guest: I am glad that you are giving this review a try.

Guest 2: Thank you! Yep, Liz's parents might be showing up at some point. What they have to do with all that's going on you'll have to wait and see. ;) I always felt that after Jason got back with Sam, everyone had to talk her up constantly as if to make her bad deeds in the past not seem so bad or make them seem unimportant because she changed. All the constant reminders of how good Sam was, took away from the "redemption" she was given in my eyes. Dante was one of those people, too, blinding accepting Sam help in Jake's investigation. Sam wasn't evil on the show as opposed to this fic at that time, but it still seemed like a bonehead choice. I didn't mind that Liason didn't end up together, it's a show at the end of the day, but I have never seen writers go out of their way to backstab a couple to prop another. Deliberately using days that were important to Liason after the "death" of Jake, to make up a surgery to rewrite Sam's hysterectomy and magically give a Jasam child made me stop watching. Yeah, after that I don't think they wrote Jason like Jason anymore. He had no depth to his writing, no drive that was his own, only him being pulled along by what Sonny and Carly wanted, and occasionally Sam, too. Nelle is a bit of a wild card, that's for sure. Franco wants nothing good, and Liz won't be ending up in love with him or friends with him in this story. Whether she kicks his ass, you'll have to read and find out. Thank you so much! I love Melissa's writing, too. We do have different styles, and it would have turned out different. I'm just paranoid, I don't want anyone to think I'm copying them or something. I've had people plagiarize my works before, so I would never do that to another writer, and I try to make sure no one feels like I am.

Guest 3: Well, thank you for the re-read. That is definitely a creative idea. The surrogacy may come up later, but not with Elizabeth's eggs. Though it might happen in a different story, it is very soapy and possibilities to drive Sam and Carly. lol

CHAPTER WARNING: VERY DARK. GRAPHIC CHARACTER DEATH, CHILD ABUSE, AND MORE.

Chapter Inspired by the Songs:

"White Blank Page" by Mumford and Sons

"Grave Digger" by Blues Saraceno

CHAPTER WARNING: VERY DARK. GRAPHIC CHARACTER DEATH, CHILD ABUSE, AND MORE.

Chapter Inspired by the Song:

"Gone Away" by Five Finger Death Punch

"Without You" by Ashes Remain

* * *

Chapter Seven

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."

—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

 _Hamal Point, Siwa_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _49 BCE_

The blue skies stretched far over Siwa with only a few white tuffs of clouds here and there. The body of water below gleamed like liquid gold underneath the sun, and a great number of boats cut across the waters as birds flew upward into the air. It was a peaceful and beautiful sight, one that was simplistic in its majesty. With a steady and reassuring hand, Bayek guided his son towards the edge of the cliff where a deep blue body of water sat below. "I know you worry about being afraid, Khemu," Bayek spoke, his tawny gaze gentled with understanding. He understood all too well the fears that Khemu felt in his heart, for once upon a time he had stood where his son stood—eager yet afraid, with a thirst to prove himself worthy. "When I was about your age, there were many times that I got scared."

"Really?" Khemu asked, tugging on his earlobe nervously. His dark eyes peered up at Bayek through the fringes of his hair, and the Medjay felt a pang in his chest at the uncertainty written there.

"Yes. I did," Bayek nodded, with a reassuring smile. "Your grandfather was a well-known Medjay, and he wanted me to bring honor to the family when I succeeded him. And one day, he took me up this way. At the top, he said something to me. A single word. It changed me."

"One word?" The boy asked, in awe.

It seemed inconceivable to a child that a single could change so much, and Bayek chuckled deep in his throat. "Yes, my son. With a single word, I got over my fear. I knew I could do anything I needed to," he nodded, resting a hand on his son's shoulder.

"What did he say?" Khemu asked, with eyes wide and eager. He shifted on the balls of his feet, bouncing his knees while awaiting with baited breath the answer that would be given. "What word did your father say?"

"Jump," Bayek told him, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Jump?" Khemu's brows shot up towards his hairline. "You mean from…" His eyes darted down past the edge of the cliff to the waters that awaited below.

"Don't think so long. The longer you think about it, the louder your fears grow," Bayek said, nudging him forward carefully. He rested his hand on his son's back for a small moment, as if to give him some of his own strength. He made Khemu lift his arms up and out of to the sides, and he took a step backwards, eyes steady on his child. He could give his son all the advice in the world, prepare him as much as he could, but there would be a day where Khemu would live in a world where Bayek didn't exist. When that moment came, Khemu would have to have learned to conquer such things like fear on his own. "Don't think. Jump."

Khemu's chest heaved and collapsed with a shudder. "Yes, papo."

"Trust me," Bayek spoke, quietly. "You can do this."

"I do," Khemu nodded, his voice jittery with nerves. "I will!"

Bayek watched his son stand there, arms outstretched and saw the quake that ran along his spine. Concern gnawed at his throat, it would always gnaw at him where his child was concern, but he had faith that Khemu was strong and even if he could not face this jump today, then one day he would. He released a small sigh, when Khemu stepped away from the edge of cliff and his son's eyes darted towards him half-afraid of a reprimand. "It is alright, son," Bayek responded, with a half-smile. "Come back, you're not ready."

Khemu bit his lower lip, and then shook his head. "No…no! I can do it, papo! I know I can!"

Bayek felt pride swell up in his as Khemu turned back towards the cliff, only to feel it turn to cold dread when a shout echoed through canyons. His head snapped around, his body instinctively placed himself between his son and the perceived danger as his eyes scoured the surroundings for any sign of who drew near. His ears pricked, listening for any sign of the nearby danger while he held out a hand towards Khemu to silently tell him to be still.

"Shut up, you filthy, little shit!" A voice snarled, violently.

"Help! Help me!"

Khemu blanched. "That's—that's Chenzira!"

The sensation of fear splintered through him like lightning, drawn him taut like a bow string and his golden eyes flared to life with burning anger. "Run home to your mother," he ordered, knowing that if Khemu stayed at his side he would be unable to focus on saving Chenzira from whatever manner of monsters—bandits or soldiers—were hurting him. "Chenzira will be fine. I will take care of it."

"Medjay Bayek!"

His name echoed through the cavern; it came from the same voice that had snarled at Chenzira, so that meant whoever this man was they were using the child in hopes to get to him. It made his worry for Khemu grow all that stronger, for what greater motivation then did a father have to protect his child? Gnashing his teeth together, he glanced down at Khemu who was froze to the spot in fear. "Go! Now."

Khemu looked at him, eyes swimming with tears. "I'm scared," he said, voice trembling. "I don't want to go home alone."

"Khemu, just do what I say, please! Go!" He barked out, his voice shrill with desperation.

A sob wracked through Khemu, but he turned on heel and fled.

Bayek swallowed down the knot of regret in the back of his throat, but a feeling of contentment cut through all the fear and anger that swirled through him. Whoever is after him might claim his life, but they would not have his son's. He marched across the cliffs, through the small and dark cavern before it opened up to the trail that led back towards the main road. His weapon was already drawn as he came upon a group of seven soldiers dressed in Greek finery, and gave them a dark, steely eyed glared that would have made lesser men tremble.

"Medjay Bayek?" The one soldier questioned, skeptically. Bayek assumed that this was the leader due to the ornament of his armor, and his eyes flickered to where Chenzira fought to break the man's hold on his wrist.

Bayek felt his upper lip curl in a snarl. "I am indeed Medjay here. Who summons me?"

"Sheathe your weapon and follow me," the soldier ordered, with a sneer.

"You said you only wanted to talk to him!" Chenzira shrieked, with terror.

"Let the boy go," Bayek hissed out. "Now."

"Of course," the Greek stated, his tone filled with mock benevolence. He released Chenzira shoving the boy away from him, and pulled his sword from his sheath, taking a threatening step forward. "Why keep the bait when you've already caught the fish? Let us make this quick. We don't have time to piss away."

"Chenzira, run!" Bayek ordered.

With a tear stricken face, Chenriza nodded and turned on heel, fleeing down the slope as fast as his feet would carry him.

A flurry of movement ended with a clangor of steel against steel, and Bayek released a fearsome roar with a great thrust that forced the Greek to backpedal several steps. A flicker of motion out his peripheral vision gave the Medjay only a split second of warning before an arrow came sailing in his direction—towards his shoulder, they weren't aiming to kill—and Bayek leapt out of the way, ducking underneath a blade that would have skewed him through his thigh. Too many foes from all around him, a battle unyielding in its intensity and Bayek lost his footing in the midst of the chaos. The pommel of a Greek blade slammed into the base of his skull, the blow so hard that he felt his eyes rolled back into his skull and the world began to whirl around and around. The golden sunlight faded away, and all Bayek knew was darkness.

* * *

 _Port Charles, New York_

 _The Safehouse_

Consciousness lured her back in with slow and steady pace of a dripping faucet, the subtle sensation that something was just a little off in the silence that was unusual and tugged her to regain consciousness even though the darkness was a strong. The first thing Elizabeth becomes aware of is the way temples fire in agony with each heartbeat and her lungs strained for each lungful of breath. It was like her body was swimming against the drugged daze that was trying to shove her under a cold, dark current. There were shapes in the darkness and an oily laughter that echoed inside of her skull like a jackhammer. "Y…Y…" Her tongue felt too large for her mouth, and it just lay there uselessly. She forced her eyes open, and after a couple of hard blinks, the madman's silhouette swam into view. "I…I'll…"

Franco knelt down in front of her, leaning so close that his nose brushed against the tip of her own. "What? You'll kill me?" Franco taunted, with a haughty laugh. "You are in no position to make threats, but have no fear, Nurse Nightingale. Other than the occasional shock," the serial killer, pulled a remote from his pocket and showed it to her. "I haven't hurt your son at all."

"You…sick…" Elizabeth hissed out, fearing the implication of his words. "Son of…a…"

Franco lunged forward, grasping her chin tightly in his hand. "I would take care not to insult my mother, Miss Webber," he snarled, his voice low and danger. "I have a great deal of patience, but it only extends so far so mind your tongue."

Elizabeth glared at him.

"Good, so you _can_ follow directions," the serial killer mused, darkly. "It was very rude when you just skipped ahead to the finale. All the little breadcrumbs I so gracefully laid out for you, and you just stomp right over all of that."

He got up and walked away from her, leaving Elizabeth looking around desperately for some kind of weapon or means of escape. It the small beam of light coming from the top of the stairs she could see a toolbox laying just about a foot away from her. Sticking out of the edge was a small blade made for reciprocating saws. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Franco who had his back towards her and with a weak and trembling hand, she reached for the blade. She fumbled for a moment, heart pounded against her ribs. On the second try, she managed to pick up the blade, soundlessly pulling it free from the toolbox and slid it up the sleeve of her shirt. She slumped back against the wall just in the nick of time, as Franco spun on his heel and very dramatically flipped the lights on.

For a split second, the light was utterly blinding.

Then she became aware of the set up. He had turned the basement into some kind of sick house of horrors. There was a globe on the table, the guide to Italy that she had given Jason years ago set beside it. Pictures of her and Jason scattered across the floor—where he had found her at Vista Point, their meeting in the park, mixed in with pictures of Jake—and there in the center of the room was Jake's old crib. The words 'dirty little secret' had been spray painted across it in red.

"Welcome to my chamber!" he shouted with uncanny glee; a snake-like grin plastered across his face. "You—sweet woman—have been carefully selected to be my special guest. You have a chance of a lifetime to be maimed, dismembered, or psychologically traumatized by yours truly. Aren't you excited?" His dark eyes flashed maliciously and chilled Elizabeth to her soul. "I know _I_ am."

Elizabeth didn't even register what he said. Her blue eyes were rounded in horror as she stared at the dog kennel shoved in the corner, with a padlock on the door and her son—her little Cameron—curled up in, shaking and frightened. Tears stains ran down his chubby cheeks and his little hands grasped at the bars, his mouthed the word 'momma' over and over again, but no sound came out. There was a shock collar wrapped around his throat and she could see the skin around it was swollen and red.

A dark feeling snaked through her veins—an unbridled rage that simmered beneath the surface. Tears of anger and helplessness welled up in her eyes, and something in her heart shattered in that moment. She was supposed to keep her babies safe. She was supposed to be their protector. Her entire body shook and quaked with the hurricane of emotions that lashed through her, and her blue eyes held her son's—silently she promised him, _I will get you out of this. I promise, sweetie, everything is going to be alright._

Cameron let out a little sob, but gave a shallow nod as if he understood what she couldn't say out loud. He probably did. He was _so_ smart. He had such a big heart. Her baby didn't deserve this kind of pain. No child deserved this kind of pain. The mother inside of her roared with the unfairness of it all and her heart pulsed with a need for retribution.

Franco grabbed some rope from a nearby duffle bag, and dragged Elizabeth across the cold hard floor to a large wooden beam. It was a support beam that kept the house standing, and he shoved her back against it so roughly that it knocked the breath out of her. "Maxie is the one that told me about you—oh, she didn't mean to let it slip. She tried to take it back, tried to manipulate and distract me from what she had said but what was said had been said," Franco informed her, as he pulled the ropes tight and tied her to the wooden post. "She let it slip that you and Jason had a longer history than even I knew of. All this time I had thought you being in Jason's life was a little mistake, a mid-life crisis that he regretted, but low and behold you are the real person holding Jason Morgan's heart. Not "ride and die" Sammy McCall."

Glaring at him, Elizabeth didn't reply.

"The silent treatment, eh? How utterly immature of you," he commented, flicking the shell of her ear in reprimand. "How are you setting a good example for young Cameron over there? Not that it matters, this is my show after all and I have enough personality to play all our scenes. You won't even really have to say a word, just stand in the background and look pretty until I tell you not to." He pulled away from her, walking over to the crib that once belonged to Jake and ran his fingers along the wood. "Now, seeing Jason's grief is always satisfying. Not nearly as delicious as seeing him when he is in a rage, but it was still amusing. I have to admit if I had known what was going to happen to dear little Jakey, I would have gotten in on the fun and helped turn Port Charles on its head. Sadly, I'll just have to make do with the aftermath."

Elizabeth sent him a wary glance, unsure of his words. There was something about the way he spoke out Jake's accident that made her pause, but she shook it off. This was Franco and he was going to use anything and everything to play with her head. Cameron, Jake, and her connection to Jason was a sure fire way to do that. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, she was very care to make no sign of obvious movement as she inched the little saw blade out of her sleeve. It slid free and she managed to catch it between her forefinger and middle finger.

"I have to admit that I don't see the appeal of you. Jason is this pillar of anger and darkness, rough around the edges in a way that draws people in. Like Sonny, Carly, Sam…even myself was drawn to danger and darkness inside of him," Franco leaned back against the dryer, looking her up and down. He was clearly unimpressed with what he found. "But you are this beacon, this too good to be true light that just doesn't fit in his world. You make absolutely no sense, so why does he want you so badly? Does he want to play pretend? To think he can be a better man if he is saved by a virtuous woman? What do you have that drives him so crazy?"

"What does any of that matter to you?" Elizabeth questioned, her voice slurred. She was dizzy and lightheaded—partly from the drug cocktail that Franco injected her with, but also from the sheer amount of fear that sizzled through her veins like wildfire. She bit her lower to keep herself from flinching as the jagged blade dug into her skin, she could feel drops of blood slid down her palm and made her fingers slick. Cutting the ropes was only half of a plan though; she had to figure out what was the next step. Her eyes flickered around the room, pretending to look at all his "decorations" in fear while searching for a good weapon. "What do you think you'll gain from that knowledge?"

Franco's nostrils flared, with a furious breath.

Elizabeth paused, for a long heartbeat. She stared him down, unblinkingly. "Oh, my God…" Her eyes went wide with a horrible epiphany. "You are in _love_ with Jason."

Franco gnashed his teeth together. "I _appreciate_ him for who he is, unlike the rest of you. Carly and Sonny use him like a guard dog. Sam uses him to climb out of the gutter she crawled out of, but you—you are the worst of all of them. You give him hope. You give him light. You make him feel like he is wrong for embracing his darkness and thriving off of it," he said, his voice trebled with fury. His eyes were dark, burning like coal and she swore she saw the pits of hell residing there. "I'm going to help him free himself from the chains that you have wrapped around him so tightly."

The ropes loosened, falling away just enough to for her to free herself. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, Elizabeth had to gather up her strength. The medicine made her stomach roll and she wasn't sure how much of a fight she had left in her. She just hoped that it was enough. "Do you think…" she said, her voice cracking as her throat went dry. "Do you think he's going to appreciate you like you do him by hurting Cameron? By hurting me? Nothing you can do will ever convince Jason of your sick twisted devotion to him."

It was like dropping a lit match into a vat of gasoline. Franco's face turned puce with rage and he started towards her with the intent of making her pay for her words, but she was ready. The saw blade in her fist, Elizabeth leapt off of the ground and lunged at Franco. She slammed into Franco, and they banged against the washer and dryer. The cardboard box filled with junk set atop of it flew off and crashed to the ground. The contents spilt out; nuts and bolts and a rusty iron pipe hit the concrete floor with a clang. Frantically brandishing the blade, Elizabeth slashed it at Franco's neck but his hands enclosed around her wrists to prevent it from sinking it deep.

Franco threw her back, away from her and she slammed back into the crib. The saw blade clattered to the floor and before she could even think about recovering it, Franco rushed forward. He knocked her to the ground and her head smacked against the concrete with such force, she was stunned. Franco straddled her hips, his hands wrapped around her throat and he squeezed painfully tight. She struggled, trying to throw him off. He was too big and much stronger than she was. She could hear the sound of a cage rattling— _Cameron…Cameron was trying to get free_ —and her hand shot out, guided by instinct or sheer dumb luck, her fingers grasped the rusty pipe.

She swung without hesitation. She slammed it over Franco's head with a bone breaking force, and his grip on her throat loosened. Kicking out with her legs, she knocked him off of her and moved like lightning, she brought the pipe over his head until he fell backwards to the ground. She then ran over to the dog kennel and smashed the padlock clean off of it with three good strikes. The door swung open, but before she could reach for her son, a hand buried into her hair and she was dragged backwards. She gave a startled wail at the blistering pain that rippled across her scalp, and she reached up, burying her nails into the hand and she _scratched._

Franco hissed, angrily.

"Run, Cameron! Run!" Elizabeth told him, elbowing the man sharply in the gut. "Don't look back, just run!"

Cameron looked terrified. His big brown eyes welled up with tears, and his little chin wobbled.

"Cameron, just go!" She shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

Her son let out a sob, but rushed out of the kennel and up the stairs. The sound of the cellar door slamming open and shut was like music to her ears, because she knew that her son would get away. Franco might kill her, but he would never get her son.

* * *

 _Temple of Amun_

 _Kingdom of Egypt_

 _49 BCE_

Shatters of pain danced underneath his eyelids like stars, Bayek clenched his jaw tighter and tighter as the day's events came creeping back in. It took him several tries to peel open his eyes open, and he found himself on his knees in the middle of the Temple of Amun with his arms bound behind him. The base skull throbbed, swollen from the dirty attack by one of the Greek soldiers that incapacitated him. His arms were very stiff as he strained against the bonds, his wrists numb and fingers prickle uncomfortably. The swoosh of flames being brought to life and the darkness outside that he could see from the door just off to the side, he had been here for an hour or two. Perhaps even longer, Bayek grimaced and blinked the blurriness away from his eyes.

Greek soldiers lined the halls of the Temple, harassing the priest and practitioners who were crouched down in fear. Bayek jolted forward when a soldier struck a young woman so hard that it sent her to the ground, but was caught by the Greek that loomed over him. The soldier forced him unsteadily to his feet, and told him with scornful derision, "Make a sound and you're dead."

Bayek swallowed thickly, feeling the blade pressed to his throat. His brows creased together as his tawny gaze surveyed the torment of his people with a helpless rage building inside of him as he was led down the long hallway until he stood in front of a masked man.

"What took you so long?" The masked man—that one day Bayek would know as Medunamun—demanded, his voice oily and dark.

"Didn't want to be seen, sir. Kept to the shadows."

The masked man dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. "We are pleased you have joined us, Medjay. It is of great importance that we gain access to the vault. The temple priests stubbornly refuse to assist us," he spoke, his voice muffled through the mask. All that could be seen were the cold and callous eyes that chilled Bayek deep to his soul.

 _Vault? What vault?_ Bayek thought, hiding his confuse beneath a glower. He did not know who this masked man was to command such forces, and beneath the Pharaoh's own nose given the need for secrecy.

"Follow me and do so without incident, Medjay," the masked man warned. "Or it will be your people that suffer the price for your rebellious nature."

Bayek grounded his teeth together, but step by step he followed the mysterious man into the Temple. They crossed into the inner sanctum where the Medjay saw Chenzira's mother, Rebecca, being held at sword point on her knees. Horror dawned across her face when she saw him bound and being led like a dog through the temple. She went to rise off her feet only to slump back down in fear when the guard made an aggravated motion with his sword. "Bayek! I thought they just wanted to ask you a question! What have I done?" She cried out, her chest rose with a sharp breath.

"Quiet!" The Greek Soldier snapped.

The masked man looked over his shoulder at Bayek who had halted for all of a moment. "Keep moving, Medjay," he ordered, darkly.

Bayek trembled in rage, but continued to walk. Through the familiar halls of the temple, he was led to a staircase that led down into the depths of the temple that he had never seen before. His mind raced with how to combat this foe when he was led into an ornate room with old and ancient carvings the likes that he had never seen before. They were something far older than even the pyramids, but why would such things interested this man so greatly that they were willing to torment his people. His thoughts didn't get much further when in the group of men that stood waiting patiently—all masked in the same mask as the man who led him down here—was his son, Khemu.

"Papo!" Khemu cried out, his chin quivered violently. He looked so scared, but he was trying so hard to be brave.

He couldn't breathe; his entire body betrayed him becoming as still as stone with fear in that moment. Underneath the burst of thundering heartbeats in his ears, Bayek heard another masked man—his accent like the men from Rome—stepped forward. "See that no one comes in," the Roman told the soldiers who obeyed with a sharp bow before left Bayek and his son in the room full of the masked ones.

Bayek was shoved roughly to his knees, and his eyes desperately searched his son's face. "Khemu! Are you hurt? Have they hurt you?" He questioned, his voice raw with fear and terror. He could barely think with the way his heart hammered inside of his chest, the dark hairs on his arm stood on end with the foreboding sensation of doom that swirled in the pit of his stomach.

"Go ahead. Try it your way," the Roman commented.

"Patience, Snake," another masked man replied, calmly. "Violence isn't always the best means."

 _Snake? Why would they call the Roman, Snake? What does that signify, some sort of status?_ Bayek thought, a vicious and cold glower on his face as he surveyed them all—all wearing the same damnable mask and robes, making it hard to discern the differences between them all and who was speaking at any given moment of time. It put him on edge that all he could see of his foes were their eyes glittered through the sockets of their masks, and his hands strained against the ropes around his wrists. If only he could break free, he could attack them and give Khemu the chance of escape.

"Your son has something to explain to you. Would the Ibis show him the orb?"

The masked figure that led him down into the temple stepped forward, with a golden orb that gleamed as bright as the sun, with strange and alien markings on it. There was a hum of primal energy that came off the orb that was otherworldly. "We believe we need this to enter the vault," the Ibis commented, before he passed the orb into Khemu's hand and pushed the boy towards his father roughly. When nothing happened, another masked man lashed out and kicked Bayek in the head.

Bayek grunted, his temple smacking painfully against the rock. He heard the broken scream that came from his son, and struggled to push himself off of the floor.

"This is a waste of time!" The Snake snarled.

"The boy is frightened! It's all right," one of the other argued.

Khemu stepped forward, his hands shaking while he stared down at the orb in his hands. "Papo. They need you to tell them about the vault. They need to know how to use this," he whispered out, taking a hesitant step forward. His eyes flickered nervously to all their capturers, and his chest shuddered with his short, shallow gasps.

"As Medjay, you must have some clue or key or legend that explains its use," the heavier set masked man spoke, his voice benevolent and gentile as if all the trouble would vanish if Bayek just gave them the answers they sought.

"I don't know anything about this vault! Please, leave my son out of this!" Bayek begged, desperately. He prayed to every god and goddess that he knew, praying for their favor to keep his son alive and see them through this madness unscathed. His insides were a quivering mess, but he fought to keep his expression fierce. He couldn't let his fear show, he had to be strong for Khemu.

The Snake growled, stepping forward with his fist raised upward but before he could bring it down across Bayek's face, a frantic soldier stormed into the room. "My lords! The Pharaoh has been roused! He insists on coming here!" The soldier shouted, his eyes darted around nervously.

Bayek narrowed his eyes, his jaw went taut. What kind of men go behind the Pharaoh's back? Or better yet, what Pharaoh allows himself to trust so blindly that men are capable of such travesties that had been visited upon Siwa? His pulse pounded at the base of his throat, and his nudged himself carefully towards his son. He wasn't sure what lengths these men would go to conceal their clandestine search for this vault.

The Ibis hissed, angrily. "We will be discovered!"

"Quickly!" The Snake gestured for the group to follow him. "Heron, stay and guard our prisoners. Don't allow them to escape!"

Bayek was hauled up off the ground, dragged across the room until he was brought in front of the wall engraved with depictions and a language the likes of which he had never seen before. _Is this what those masked men believe is the doorway to some kind of vault?_ He thought, glancing up at the mural of towering beings that stood guarding mankind. It looked like they were attempting to build a temple, or something the like, but he had no idea what it could mean. _Was it a depiction of the gods? How they helped forge and guide my people? But if so, what is in this so called vault that mean are willing to go to such lengths? Surely, there are better ways to earn the gods favor than to use such brutality._

The masked foes left the room one by one until only the individual called Heron stood left. "Talk to your son. If the vault isn't open when we return, you'll never see him again," the Heron warned him, with a sharp and punctuated look before he turned on heel. He came to a halt at the threshold, with his back turned on the father and son.

With bile burning white hot up in his throat, Bayek choked it down and fought against the storm of emotions inside of him. The Medjay struggled to weigh the odds of attacking them. His hands were bound, so even if he attempted something there was little he could do finish the fight or protect his son while he was at it.

Khemu reached out, and hugged him tightly when he thought it was safe. His tiny body shook his silent sobs, and tears poured down his face that sent a painful stab through Bayek's heart. "Papo. I did what you said, but—" Khemu hiccupped, scrubbing his eyes with his fist.

"It's all right, son," Bayek told him, lightly. A sense of failure washed over him in giant waves, and he bowed his head forward. He was a Medjay, a protector, but what good was he if he could not protect that which he loved most? He recalled the men who had hunted his father years ago and had killed him. He had always known that being a Medjay would see enemies upon his doorstep, but the years had been so quiet with only bandits and animal attacks plaguing Siwa. He had allowed himself to grow careless of more insidious dangers, and now they were here trapped in the depths of the Temple of Amun where everything seemed dim and hopeless. "This is not your fault. Whoever these men are, they were watching and waiting. There was little either of us could have done to prevent this, but whatever happens, know that I love you. Promise me, you know that?"

"I do, Papo," Khemu said, with a shallow nod. "Maybe I could—"

Khemu broke the hug, watching around to try and pull the knot loose on the ropes. After several seconds ticked by, the boy dropped his hands with a frustrated sigh. "I can't get the knot free," Khemu whispered out, despondently.

"It is fine, Khemu," Bayek said, trying to sound reassuring. "We will find another way."

Khemu bit his lower lip, looking around aimlessly until his eyes fixated on one of the masked men. Bayek tilted his head, a furrow settled along his brow as he wondered what drew his son's attention and slowly he followed his gaze before his heart plummeted right out of his body. "No, Khemu, don't," Bayek whispered, a knot of a dread strangling his voice.

"Papo. I can get it to you," Khemu replied, pointing a finger at the knife looped on the belt of the Heron. His son looked determined and fearless, and Bayek wished that he could feel pride in that. Instead, all he felt were the cold jaws of fear clamp around his heart with an painful force. "They're going to hurt us. We have to try."

"Khemu, no—"

His son disobeyed him, venturing forth crouched down on his haunches. His footsteps were soundless against the stone, but Bayek felt each one slam into him like thunder while he watched helplessly as his son approached the masked man. He couldn't lunge forward to stop Khemu, nor could he cry out to stop him because it would draw attention, so he had to sit there on his knees with his heart bleeding in his chest as if it was too heavy to bear. There had been many times that Bayek had been afraid throughout his entire lifetime, but this was the worst kind of dread that slithered into his bones—cold and merciless like a cobra's venom.

"This is a foolish waste of time!" The Snake's voice echoed from somewhere above. The sound of footsteps could be heard, coming down the stairway. The masked group were returning, and Bayek felt his heart slam against his ribs.

"No, Khemu. Khemu, come back," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Khemu bit his lower lip, his hand reaching up to grasp the knife. He shrank back when the Heron moved ever so slightly, and then with the nimbleness of a master thief, he snatched the knife and darted back towards his father. He pressed the blade into the palm of Bayek's hand, and stepped back just as the group of men rounded the corner. Bayek twisted his body, so that his torso blocked the sight of him cutting frantically at the ropes.

"Out of time! Tell us!" The Snake snarled.

"Oh, oh, I don't know!" Bayek responded, trying to buy any precious scrap of time. He just needed a few more seconds, the ropes were growing slack and he almost had them completely cut.

"We must go now!" The Ibis spoke, his voice unsteady with nervousness.

The Snake let out a deep and thunderous growl. His hand shot out with a surprising swiftness, and grasped Khemu by the back of his neck. "I will cut the heart from the boy," the Snake threatened, pulling a dagger from a sheath at his belt. He pointed the tip of the blade right above Khemu's heart. "He will never know the afterlife."

"No, no, no, I will tell you, I will tell you, I will tell... no, no, no," Bayek pleaded, his eyes locked onto his son's eyes—eyes filled with so much fear and panic. It was unthinkable, the threat the man just made. To threaten a child and threaten to destroy their passage to the afterlife, it was beyond unthinkable and reprehensible. Death and the afterlife were not things that mortal hands could mend, and Bayek would not allow this bastard to hurt his child today, or day afterwards.

"He's stalling for time," the Heron accused.

The ropes fell to the ground, and Bayek sprung to his feet, using his elbow to knock the Ibis away from him sharply. Khemu ripped himself free from the Snake's grasp, and backpedal out of the way of the chaos as the Medjay lunged forward with the knife aimed straight at the Snake's heart. The Snake caught Bayek's arms, barely holding him off from claiming his life. It became a struggle of strength, as Bayek strained, pushing forward with all his might while the Snake pressed his feet flat against the stone surface to give him leverage against the attack.

"Stop! This is madness!" Someone cried out.

The Snake stared angrily, through the slits of his mask. His eyes were dark and cruel, filled with an unearthly hatred. His head tilted, as if he were looking behind him at something and when his gaze turned back to Bayek as they struggled over the knife in between them, the Medjay would swear there was a dark smile behind that mask in the years to come—a thought that would haunt and plague him as would what happened next.

"The Snake takes that as your answer," he chuckled, vindictively. He twisted his body in a sharp and abrupt movement, no longer pushing at Bayek, but instead pulling him forward very quickly—so quickly there was no way for Bayek to stop.

There was only a moment in between—a split second where Bayek felt his eyes grow wide when he came face to face with his son who had been hiding in the Snake's shadow—and the Snake releasing his arms, where Bayek was propelled forward and the knife went straight into Khemu's heart. "No! No!" Bayek wailed, the realization uprooted and overturned his entire world in cruel and painful moment. "Khemu! Khemu! Please, no!"

The light was gone from his son's eyes, and Khemu fell to the ground dead.

Bayek crashed to the ground all thought of his capturers forgotten, his hands pulling his son's lifeless body towards him. His heart was shattered, the jagged edges cutting him up from the inside out. He wept over the body, pleas and prayers falling over his lips like a broken litany until the Snake bashed his skull in with a fist and the world went dark.

The dark memories of that day faded away, and Bayek was brought back to the present, where he stood in the Temple of Amun. His sword at his side, dripping with blood and his breaths labored as he stared down the Ibis, Medunamun. His golden gaze was misty, filled with ghosts of the past and the weight of his failure. The Medjay could have easily given up, sank into the well of his sorrows and drowned. But it was the unrest that Khemu faced in the afterlife that spurned him onward to buy some ounce of penance so the gods would show his child mercy, so Bayek could atone for his greatest failure of not being able to protect him.

The cut had been cruel and the blade had been buried deep, taking away what was most precious to him. If he had not been so headstrong, so quick to throw himself at the Snake and had been more cautious, then maybe things would be different. Maybe Khemu wouldn't have paid for his mistake, but the past could not be changed, and now this is where he stood. Bayek took a slow, measured step towards Medunamun who limped tiredly around him in a weary circle.

The battle had been long and fierce, both of them bleeding and wounded. The call of the Duat shimmered in the air, and what would happen in the next few moments would spell the end for one of them.

"We thought you were dead, after we tossed you into the waters to drown. I suppose we should have realized that the wife of a Medjay was more the some weeping soul, and should have disposed of her as well so she couldn't pull you back out," Medunamun commented, with a taunting gleam in his gaze. "But what good did that do, hmm? You still could not even save your own son!"

Bayek snarled, teeth gnashed together and his nostrils flared with a furious breath. He tossed his sword aside, the blade sliding across the ground with a metallic shrill and the Medjay sprang forward, his hands wrapped around the priest's throat and he squeezed with all of his might. He wanted to squeeze the very life out of him. Medunamun plunged a sharp elbow into his stomach, and forced the Medjay away, turning to run only to find himself surrounded by walls. All the blood drained out of the Ibis' face when he realized that he had backed himself into a corner, and he turned towards the Medjay with beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"This is your end, prophet," Bayek told him, eyes narrowed into slits. "Pray the gods have mercy on your for your treachery."

Medunamun stumbled backwards, stumbling over the edge of a rug and falling hard on his backside. The golden sphere with the mysterious writing fell loose from his robes and rolled forward until it settled against Bayek's boot. The Ibis made to move forward to grasp it with a greedy look in his eye, but halted at the pure murderous intent rolling off of Bayek.

"You are no one!" Medunamun shrieked, crawling back away. "Bayek of nothing! Father to nobody!"

A dark ferocity snapped and burnt hot inside of his veins, an anger so black that it coated the light of soul and in that moment all he felt was madness. Bayek picked up the golden orb—the one that the masked men had so reverently thought held the answers to the vault—and grasped the false prophet by the collar of his robes. He raised the golden sphere high and struck the Ibis across the face with all the force his body could muster. "Here! Here! And here is your 'nobody'!" Bayek shouted, bringing the metal orb down over and over again.

Bayek bludgeoned the Ibis to death, until there was nothing left but a smear across the floor where Medunamun's face once had been. His chest rose and fell with each breath that passed through him roughly and distraught, while he held the bloody orb in his palm tightly. His eyes fell closed tightly, his throat swelled closed as a number of emotions cascaded through him from head to toe. Another name had been stricken from the list, another masked foe had fell and yet he still felt no closer to healing wound inside of him.

His golden eyes peeled open, and he slowly rose up off the ground. "May the Hidden One greet you," he told the lifeless body, his voice emotionless and a stoic look upon his features. "The lord of the Duat awaits."

* * *

Elizabeth screamed, she fell back and banged her head against the wall. Her hands slapped against the dryer just to the left of her, using it as an anchor to clamber back to her feet and her heart was pounding her ribs. Her weapon, the pipe laid just a few feet behind where Franco stood and she felt the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. The prickle of fear that ran across her skin with a shiver, she felt her teeth gnashed together while her thoughts swirled around in her skull, trying to figure a way out of this. There was no one that was going to rescue her, and the cold realization that she was going to have to face this monster alone.

She felt blood trickle down from her upper lip, and the copper taste burnt her tongue. Her side throbbed from where he had kicked her, and she was certain that a rib was bruised or at worst, broken. A sensation stirred inside of her stomach at the sight of his monstrous smile—so smug, so sure that she was done in, that he had beaten her to the point of breaking. It made a black anger stir in her soul, and her heartbeat throbbed at the base of my throat.

"You know your son is still here," Franco taunted, with a saccharine smile. He pointed a finger at the monitors set up over the corner of the room, with live feed of different cameras set up around the house and sure enough there was a camera showing the front of the house where the porch was. Cameron stood crouching in the just underneath the stairs of the porch unaware of the camera just up above. "I would have thought he would have made for the hills, but after I am through with you, I think I'll go get him and wrapped him up a little box, gifting him to Jason for his birthday."

"You aren't touching my son!" Elizabeth lunged forward, tackling him at the knees with all the strength she could muster. Franco went crashing down to the ground with a loud yelp, and she didn't waste a second in grabbing the pipe. She whirled around, just as Franco was picking himself up off of the floor, striking him across the back of the skull. He gave a sharp wail, like a wounded animal but she was relentless. She rose to her feet and swung pipe, slamming it against his ribs, his back and more. Any spot that she could reach, she brought the pipe around with all the force she could muster and would not let him get to his feet. He curled in on himself, and she kept hitting and hitting until he lay in bloody lump on the ground.

He held up his hands, his eyes unfocused with the severe concussion that she had given him. "I'll tell you who killed Jake!" Franco shouted, suddenly. "I'll tell you who set the whole thing up! Just stop!"

Elizabeth froze, startled by what he said.

"Think about it! What is one boy, huh?" Franco choked, blood running out of the corner of his mouth. "What is one boy worth to you, Elizabeth? Just let me go and I'll tell you everything."

His words drove into her brain and red film settled over her vision. "How dare you? You think I'll let use Jake's accident for your sick game? My son's memory isn't for you to ransom," she said, her voice deep and ice cold. She didn't even sound like herself. It was as if she were someone else—someone else holding the pipe, someone else filling her shoes and yet it was her at the same moment.

His face twisted into an ugly sneer when he realized that he wasn't going to get out of this situation. "You bitch," he spat, angrily. "You think you are something special? You think you matter? You couldn't even protect your children! You are a worthless piece of nothing that everyone leaves behind! You are nothing!"

"I am not nothing! I have never been nothing!" Elizabeth felt something strain inside of her before it snapped, and when Franco made to get up, spewing words on how he would skin her and how he rip her eyes from her skull, she descended upon him with madness burning white hot in her skull. She knew that only one of them was going to walk out of this basement alive, and that was going to be her, so she swung the pipe in a wide arc.

It caught him across the face, and he collapsed against the ground.

Elizabeth swung again, and again.

And again.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER!

I hope you all enjoyed!

RRs are appreciated.


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